Stupid test. Stupid laps. I hope there's caff with breakfast.
Anders starts running immediately, knowing that the sooner this is over the sooner he can eat.
He sets a measured pace, long loping strides eating up the distance. By chance, Anders is close enough to Axel to hear his comment, and resolves to try and get a look.
Anders attempts are for naught, as by the time he has completed another lap, his pinched lungs have driven the thought from his head.
"I... Hate... Laps..."
Anders pants through his next lap. His father used to make him run laps around their town as punishment. Or at least that's how it had started. Then it got labelled as "character building," or some such nonsense.
On the plus side, this shouldn't be too hard. No need to finish first and have nothing left for the rest of the day. Anders couldn't see that going well.
Vyr starts running the laps with out saying a word. There is no point now and laps were hard but not the worst they could throw at them. Now he has to focus on taking out the apparent winner of this morning stupid test. Axel was his name right. That is what the racist Drang called him. Taking him out was the wrong choice of words but if this entire planet is ruled by competition then Axel has just painted a target on his back.
"What exactly do you suppose they keep in that barn over there?"
"I don't know Axel. Most likely there are more nerf's in there like the one grazing outside. That would explain the smell."
The ring with wooden weapons didn't look good to Vyr. He wasn't build like these other humans. He was as tall, more nimble but less strong. In a melee fight this could bite him in the but.
Tarros adjusts the straps on his pack so it won't bounce around too much before he starts jogging, slowly at first then faster as he warms up. The familiar exercise brings back thoughts of years before, when he was still a student. Most of the running he's done since has been through much rougher terrain than this.
: As you each arrive at the breakfast table eat, you are each directed to a seat beside one of the four who brought you here. They are still fully armored and helmeted. Anders ends up beside the gold armored one, Axel beside the female in black and orange, Vyr beside the green armored Twi’lek, and Tarros beside the dark blue armored one. You can see now that these warriors have been completely outfitted in their gear.
The gold armored one has a very large beskad, it looks like it has been made to be wielded in two hands as opposed to one. He also carries, strapped across his back, a rotary blaster cannon, and what looks like some sort of missile or torpedo launcher.
The black and orange one carries four pistols, two on her hips, and two in shoulder holsters. She also carries, coiled at her waist, a shock whip, and two small beskad .
The Twi’lek has a bowcaster on his back, and 2 beskad in scabbards at his waist.
The blue armored one has, in holsters at his waist, and in a bandolier across his chest, what looks to be four of the rare Verpine Shatter guns, and, attached at various points around his armor, five lightsaber hilts.
While you eat, Drang introduces you to the four who escorted you here. ‘These four here are your new superior officers. They will be present throughout your training, and be evaluating your progress, and giving praise or punishment where they see fit. Gren, step forward.’
The gold armored warrior steps forward, and removes his helmet, revealing the face of a middle-aged Feeorin. ‘Anders, this is Gren Wiir. He will be watching your training carefully. Serena, would you come forward now.’
The orange and black armored female steps forward, and removes her helmet, revealing an attractive, vibrant green skinned Falleen. ‘Axel, this is Serena Garn. She will be evaluating your training. Ffon, would you step forward now.’
The Twi’lek steps forward, removing his helmet, revealing a pale red skinned, middle-aged Twi’lek. ‘Vyr, meet Ffon. He will be your superior. Finally, Trask, could you step forward.’
The dark blue armored one steps forward, removing his helmet. This reveals a middle-aged Draethos. ‘Tarros, this is Trask Qyzen. He was once a Jedi Master of the Old Republic. He will watch you carefully. Now, you may introduce yourselves, and then they will assign you your chores for this morning, and, along with me, supervise your training this afternoon.’
Vyr turned and bowed to his new trainer. "My name is Vyr and I look forward to learning under you teachings, Fton. What you you have your trainee do?"
"Ba'buir." Anders nods respectfully to Wiir.
"What's the plan?"
Tarros's eyes widen at the exotic weaponry on his trainer, as well as the claim to be a Jedi Master. "I'm Tarros. Tarros Jek. Sir. Master."
The sleek symmetry of their features, calculating and cold demeanors, their exotic looks, and their ability to alter their skin pigmentation meant that the Falleen were often considered to be among the most aesthetically pleasing beings in the galaxy. In addition to their strikingly beautiful appearance, the Falleen exudedpheromones which made them all but irresistible to both sexes,[1] as evidenced when Quinlan Vos fell under the influence of a male Falleen's pheromones. They had small scales all over their bodies, as well as slightly clawed fingers and toes. In addition, the Falleen displayed prominent facial and spinal ridges, though females tended to have slighter, more subtle growths.
The Falleen were semi-aquatic, and were able to hold their breath underwater for a long period of time, leading exobiologists to believe that the Falleen's ancestors were completely aquatic. The appearance ofbreasts and other mammalian characteristics in Falleen females and males have also led exobiologists to believe that Falleen had a mammal ancestor.
They were one of the few species resistant to mind tricks, and had green blood.
The Draethos could live to be a thousandyears and older. Despite their long lives, their childhood was quite short. They matured quickly, grew out of adolescence at 18, then enjoyed a healthy adulthood which lasted approximately four hundred years. At four hundred a Draethos was considered middle aged. It was not until age seven hundred that a Draethos was considered elderly.
Draethos, warrior and intellectual alike, possessed telepathy, including the ability to communicate with any sentient being in a radius of approximately five hundred meters. The ability was limited to communication; a Draethos could not invade the thoughts of others.
Axel just doesn't say anything. He already knows this is going to bite him in the behind later. Shoot me. Of course I had to get the one lady trainer... at least I think it's a she? You know it's actually kind of hard to tell. Man that is a turn off. Aaaaachhh, focus Axel, focus!
Axel stalls for time while he regains some of his cool. "Uhh, so runnin' laps and tossin' 'nades is all fine and good, but when do we start the real thing, huh? Where's the meat and potatuhs?" Axel smirks to himself with a little bit of pride, having thought of that one liner. Yeah that's real clever Axel. Real clever. You a smooth talker.
Your four trainers all spend several minutes removing their armor plates, and storing them in their residences on the farm. They then return to you, and give you your next instructions.
To Vyr: With a wide grin, Ffon chuckles. ‘Chores, ma boy! There’s always chores to do, this is a farm! You get to fill that hopper over there,’ He gestures to a large metal bin beside the barn, ‘With some nice warm fertilizer. There’s a shovel and a hoversled over there too. You can find the fertilizer underneath the nerfs, in their pens in the barn. Hehehehe, Ohohoho, Hahaha.’ He bursts out laughing at his ‘joke.’
To Anders: ‘We’ve got some milking to do, the nerfs are in the barn.’ He states gruffly. ‘Have any skills we can use around here?’ Then walks off in the direction of the barn.
To Tarros: With a sad looking smile, he glances down at one of the hilts on his belt, and in a soft voice, says ‘Please don’t call me master, I haven’t been a Jedi in, I don’t know, lost count, but it must be at least 350 years. We’re heading out to the fields, got a crop that needs to come in.’
To Axel: Moving closer, and smiling coyly, she comes within arm’s reach of Axel. ‘Eventually, young one, when you’re ready.’ She says somewhat seductively. Then suddenly, her knee comes up into Axel’s groin, hard, and her fist hits him in the chest, knocking him flat on the ground. You’re NOT ready. Get up. We have some firewood to split.’
To Vyr: With a wide grin, Ffon chuckles. ‘Chores, ma boy! There’s always chores to do, this is a farm! You get to fill that hopper over there,’ He gestures to a large metal bin beside the barn, ‘With some nice warm fertilizer. There’s a shovel and a hoversled over there too. You can find the fertilizer underneath the nerfs, in their pens in the barn. Hehehehe, Ohohoho, Hahaha.’ He bursts out laughing at his ‘joke.’
"Do you have any compost?" Vyr replies ignoring the joke. "Mixing that with the poop makes for even better fertilizer. Did a year and a half under a Tof farmer's care before I started working, ha, slaving, for the warriors. People think that these nerf's smell bad you should see the animal the Tof's kept. Those were terrible animals." Vyr gets started on the shovelling with out complaining. "So how did you end up on here Ffon?"
Whoa, whoa, WHOA! Creepy lady-thing is making advances? Back the f*** up Axel, back the f***-
*POW!*
Axel is sent reeling backwards from the unexpected groin kick. AH! Geez! Well, at least we know where we stand. Don't think I'll be expecting any more of that. Axel shakes his head trying to clear the pain from his stunned brain. Motes of light flicker before his eyes. Yeah that's gonna be one for the books... IF i ever hear the end of it. I really hope the others didn't see that.
"Nrrgh. Okay." Axel grunts, getting to his feet again. He follows Serena over to the choppin' block and grabs an axe. He starts his work in silence, carefully checking over his shoulder now and again to make sure he isn't going to get hit with another sudden blow from his - as he has now determined - rather dangerous mentor.
Raising the axe over his head be brings it down with a mighty blow upon the log set before him. The log splits neatly in two, and Axel flexes his muscles, grabbing another one. Axel just keeps on truckin', reducing the pile of wood to chopped bits ready for a fire.
Eventually, as the pile begins to dwindle, Axel screws up the courage (or the adrenaline) to make small talk with Serena. The work is making him feel better by taking his mind off of this morning. "So how long has this farming stuff been going on around here? I'll admit I don't really know too much about his place. Sorta feels like a 'grass-roots' town like you see on the holo-vids. Reminds me of that one vid, 'Amish Vampires in Space.' Damn that s*** was kinky."
Milking nerfs? Hah, looks like that summer working for Mr. Holdman is paying off!
Anders follows Wiir, rolling up his sleeves as he goes.
"I've got some experience working on a dairy farm. Is this place manual or automatic? I've done both, but I have more experience with automatic milkers. Buir and I ran a machine shop in a small town on Concord Dawn, and there were a few dairies around that had automatic milkers. Every once and a while Buir would send me out to fix them, and I'd end up having to test them."
Anders shoots a quick look over to Tarros, curious as to what sort of crop he'd be working with, but then decided that it didn't really matter. Compared to the other tasks, milking nerfs was downright easy, and far more enjoyable than some.
Anders pointedly did not look at Vyr.
To Tarros: With a sad looking smile, he glances down at one of the hilts on his belt, and in a soft voice, says ‘Please don’t call me master, I haven’t been a Jedi in, I don’t know, lost count, but it must be at least 350 years. We’re heading out to the fields, got a crop that needs to come in.’
"Yessir." Tarros follows Trask, grateful that his mentor doesn't seem to hate him as much as Drang. Compared to the other trainers, it looks like he got a pretty good deal.
To Vyr: ‘COMPOST? We feed everything to the nerfs, you’re shoveling the compost! Hahaha! As for how I ended up here, I didn’t, I was born here! My father died fighting the empire here, Grovan took me in, adopted me. I was 15 at the time. What brings you here? Oh, and what are you? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve never encountered one of your species before.’ Ffon seems to have a very lighthearted, jovial personality, though he still looks like he could kill at a moment’s notice. He suddenly blurts: ‘You were a slave? Shab, Vyr’ika, that's s***.’
To Axel: ‘Hmmm, farming, well, that’s been happening here as long as long as us mando’ade have been here. That’s what we do, the three “f’s,” farming, fighting, and family.’ She seems to constantly pour seductive tones into her words, with such ease it is uncertain if she is testing you, seducing you, or just simply talks that way. ‘This way, Stone,’ she says somewhat rudely, 'Have to stack this wood now.’
To Anders: ‘Manual.’ He states gruffly. ‘No need to fix.’ He seems to use few words, if he needs to speak at all. He points at a bucket, and a stool, and motions for you to work the right line of nerfs penned in the barn. The barn has 2 long rows of nerfs, each line containing around 45 animals. He sits on his stool at the first in his row and starts. ‘Teaches patience, this does. Lunch comes after we finish. I will not aid you in finishing your share.’
Anders simply shrugs once.
"Fair enough."
With that, Anders flips the brim of his cap backwards and pulls up a stool to get to work.
Some music would be perfect right now. Oh well, another time.
‘This way, Stone,’ she says somewhat rudely, 'Have to stack this wood now.’
"Sure thing boss." Axel put the axe away, picks up a load of chopped wood and follows Serena. He starts humming the tune to an old smelter's song he'd heard sung in taverns back on Corellia.
To Vyr: ‘COMPOST? We feed everything to the nerfs, you’re shoveling the compost! Hahaha! As for how I ended up here, I didn’t, I was born here! My father died fighting the empire here, Grovan took me in, adopted me. I was 15 at the time. What brings you here? Oh, and what are you? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve never encountered one of your species before.’ Ffon seems to have a very lighthearted, jovial personality, though he still looks like he could kill at a moment’s notice. He suddenly blurts: ‘You were a slave? Shab, Vyr’ika, that's s***.’
"Don't worry you are not rude. I am a Nagai and yeah I was once a slave." Vyr pulls up his sleeve to show that there is nothing on his forearm. "I don't see any numbers though so I am free. In theory at least. Fought in the resistance movement against our slavers, that is where I learned most of my tricks. A bunch of your warriors eventual helped us free our planet but that doesn't mean that all of us were freed. I was 'serving' on a ship when I finally saw my chance to escape. Took it, ran and got the tattoo removed. I have no family left, all killed fighting, so I figured I would through my loot in with those that helped my people. Also your armour is flipping cool. Hehehehe! Figured I could honour my family by serving, and not slaving, for you guys. Even though they are dead I still care about what they think of me. I think they are proud. Well that got dark. Sorry for making you depressed right after breakfast. What is the drinking rule on this planet? I mean need something strong at lunch. Hahaha!"
To Vyr: ‘Well, we have a strict, no alcohol rule here on the farm, so I’m afraid you are out of luck for lunch, and for the next while, we will be here for a number of days now, choring and training. But when I said that’s s***, I didn’t mean the part about being a slave, I was trying to help you avoid the pile of nerf s*** that you just stepped in. Hahahaha!’
To Axel: Serena shoots you a disgusted look when you begin humming. ‘My, my, aren’t you the aruetii. We only have a few songs here that we sing.’ With that, she begins singing a rhythmic, chant-like song. After the first line or so, Ffon near the barn, Trask in the fields, and, eventually Gren’s voice is heard from inside the barn, bellowing the words.
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.
We, the wrath of Mandalore, Brothers all.
And glory, eternal glory,
We shall bear its weight together.
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all.
One indomitable heart, Brothers all.
We, the wrath of Mandalore, Brothers all.
And…
Those who stand before us light the night sky in flame.
Our vengeance burns brighter still.
Every last traitorous soul shall kneel.
Those who stand before us light the sky in flame.
Our vengeance burns brighter still.
Every last traitorous soul shall fall.
Forged like the saber in the fires of death, Brothers all!
"Hey that's pretty good," Axel says as he unloads the first bundle of timber, after the chanters have finished the last 'Vode an.' "How's that go again?" and he starts picking at the words he recognizes, badly butchering the already coarse language of the mandalorians, but picking up the rhythm quickly. He tries working through it a few more times as he continues hauling the firewood back and forth.
He tries going over the vernacular while he works. "So Vode an is 'brothers all', and Manda'yaim is the world of Mandalore, right right. And kote... that's 'glory.' 'Darasuum kote'... that's some kind of glory? Hnnh I'll need to ask about that one... 'Tracinya'... I think that's flame? It's sort of like dralshy'a, which is light, or some aspect of it... And Aruetyc is short for Areutese; heard that one before. It's the word for 'dishonorable' or something... except Aruetese is pretty much everyone who isn't Mando... hmmm..."
Vyr stops moving the fertilizer and listens to the song. He doesn't bother moving his foot, doesn't care. Once the song stops Vyr turns to Ffon, "I can't wait to learn that once. Something I didn't explain about my race, we have ridiculous singing range." Vyr then sing just the word 'hello' and shows off his range. He goes from his normal speaking voice to higher then any human women could sing then to lower then any man could sing. "I love showing that of at bars. Got me laid once or twice. Can you repeat it slower Ffon. I want to learn it." Vyr start moving the fertilizer again while trying to remember the song.
Well, not my first choice in music, but whatever.
Anders starts singing along, his baritone joining Gren's deep bass. It has been a while since he last sang, but at least he knows the words.
"Kote!
Kandosii sa ka’rta, Vode an.
Manda’yaim a’den mhi, Vode an.
Bal kote, darasuum kote,
Jorso’ran kando a tome.
Sa kyr’am nautracyn kad, Vode an.
Kandosii sa ka’rta, Vode an.
Manda’yaim a’den mhi, Vode an.
Bal…
Motir ca’tra nau tracinya,
Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a.
Aruetyc talyc runi’la solus cet o’r,
Motir ca’tra nau tracinya,
Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a
Aruetyc talyc runi’la trattok’o
Sa kyr’am nau tracyn kad, Vode an!"
Anders smiles as he moves on to the next nerf, the last notes of the battle-chant ringing through the rafters of the barn.
"You've got a powerful set of lungs on you, ba'buir! Know any other good ones?"
Tarros continues working to the beat of the chant, feeling the strength of the rhythm.
"What does 'Vode an' mean?" he asks once the song is done. "I'm afraid I don't know any Mando'a."
To Axel: Quickly closing the distance between herself and Axel, Serena delivers a swift, brutal slap to his face, leaving within seconds a bright red image of her handprint on his left cheek. ‘That’s part of OUR heritage, us Mando’ade, not you aruetii. Vode An, that’s our chant, you may learn it when you are permitted, and can handle the physical attributes of it. Once you are taught it, you will be Mando, but you are not yet. Keep working, we still have to prepare the midday meal.’ She abruptly turns and walks toward the houses, leaving you to finish stacking the wood. At this time, it is around an hour until noon.
To Vyr: Mando’ade don’t sing, that was our chant. You will learn it when you are ready.’ He chuckles to himself, ‘Hoo boy, you’re gonna feel that for DAYS when you learn it first, with some luck, you will have your own beskar’gam by then. No single Mando’ade will hold back in a good round of Vode An.’
To Anders: ’Many. You’re not worthy of them yet. You’re barely worthy of Vode An. But a scrawny kid like you, the motions of the chant WILL destroy you, and no single being worthy of being called Mando’ade will take it easy on you, even before you have your beskar’gam, and no one will stop when your face gets smashed in. Vode An is our heritage.’ He gathers a large breath, and with a guttural roar, yells Startling the nerf you are currently milking, causing it to lash out with a hoof towards your face.
To Tarros: ‘Vode An? It means ‘Brothers All.’ Don’t worry about learning it now, it will be taught to you when it has been decided you are ready. And don’t worry about not knowing Mando’a, it’s a simple language, you will pick it up in no time.’
I'm really starting to hate this guy.
Anders wipes the blood from his face onto a rag, and slowly stands to face Gren.
"I thought that the whole point of this thing was that you'd train me. Make me worthy. All you're doing is kicking me around. I've tried to be nice, but apparently you can't see that. You call yourself Mando'ade, yet what are the Resol'nare? One: Wear Beskar'gam. No one gives beskar'gam to an untrained kid. Two: speak Mando'a. No problems there, I was taught it by my Mando neighbours on Concord Dawn. Three: Defending yourself and your family. My Dad's dead, and I haven't seen Mom in over a decade. That's why I'm here; Mom was Mand'ade. Four: Raising your children as Mandalorians. THIS IS WHAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING!" Anders face flushes as he roars at Gren, flinging his bloody rag at his feet.
"Five: Contributing to the clan's welfare. Clan Kelborn is me and my Mom. Big whoop. Six: Answer the Mand'alor's call. No problems there."
Anders spits out a glob of blood.
"So, shabuir, make me worthy."
Well, if he hits me again I've earned it.
To Vyr: Mando’ade don’t sing, that was our chant. You will learn it when you are ready.’ He chuckles to himself, ‘Hoo boy, you’re gonna feel that for DAYS when you learn it first, with some luck, you will have your own beskar’gam by then. No single Mando’ade will hold back in a good round of Vode An.’
"You lied to me. That isn't a chant it is apart of a ritual, I think. It is like a coming of age ceremony, when you are fully welcomed into the culture kind of thing, maybe. I am not used to Man" The sudden kick and yelling from inside the barn made Vyr turn and look. Anders got kicked and then started rightfully yelling back. "Forget that last part. Ffon new question; is Anders my comrade? This is not a competition that only one of us wins right? Your answer will influence my actions should this get... interesting."
To Tarros: ‘Vode An? It means ‘Brothers All.’ Don’t worry about learning it now, it will be taught to you when it has been decided you are ready. And don’t worry about not knowing Mando’a, it’s a simple language, you will pick it up in no time.’
Tarros nods and gets back to work.
Having been slapped by the b****-trainer, Axel drops the pile of wood he is carrying. It falls on his feet. It hurts a bit, but he's more stunned by her reaction. Whoa, touchy subject. These guys are crazy. Must be all this talk about 'honor.' Knew there was a reason why the military was too good for us.
After Selena walks away spouting something about lunch, Axel collects himself and the scattered pieces of wood and resumes working. Man, that was a perfect set up for a joke about b****es belonging in the kitchen, buuuuut I should probably just keep my mouth shut. Axel keeps stacking the wood until all the wood is stacked.
To Anders: ‘All right, let me go through the Resol’nare for you. One, wear beskar’gam.’ He thumps his fist on his chest, through his clothing you hear a hard thump, betraying the presence of yet more armor underneath. ‘Two, speak Mando’a. I’ve been speaking it since long before you were born, and will be speaking it long after you’re gone. Three, defending your family, I tried. THEY ARE ALL GONE!!’ He towers over you, spittle flying from his lips as his voice raises above the sounds from within the barn. ‘My wife, dead. Killed on a job, 24 years before the Clone Wars. My children, dead. Killed when they resisted the Imperial occupation. My grandchildren, slaughtered by the damn Vongese. Four, raising my children as Mando’ade. No children left to raise. But I will train you to not only be Mando’ade, but also to be a survivor. If I need to be hard on you, I will. Five, contributing to the clan. Revik is my home, I work the farm every day. I am the first in, and the last out, of any conflict. Six, answer the Mand’alor’s call. Since I earned my beskar, I have followed Jaster Mereel, Jango Fett, The Resurrector, Spar, Fenn Shysa, and now young Bob’ika into battle no fewer than 57 times.’ He starts to back off a bit, ‘But if you think I’m not good enough for you, then hit me, I will not back away.’
He stands straight, hands behind his back, waiting for a blow. ‘HIT ME!’ He roars. ‘Hit me, and don’t question my methods again. Hit me, and then we will continue your training.’
To Vyr: ‘Don’t get too many ideas in your head Vyr,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘It is not a competition, but ideas of eliminating your, yes, comrades, will not go over very well.’ The left side of your face suddenly stings with pain as Ffon unleashes an unpredictable backhand slap to your face. ‘You will be working, fighting, sleeping, and eating with us, and your three ‘friends’ for the duration of your stay with the clan, and killing or seriously injuring a part of the clan will get you exiled or killed.’
To Tarros: ‘So, Tarros, why do you want to become Mando? Everyone has a different reason, I would like to know yours.’
To Axel: Once you finish stacking the wood, you make your way over to the houses, following Serena’s path, to help with preparing food. When you arrive in the kitchen, you find Serena and Raya, just finishing the preparations. There is a young human boy in the kitchen, he looks to be around 5 standard years old. He is wearing a small suit of Mandalorian armor. When he sees you enter, he runs over and kicks your shin with a small, durasteel-clad foot. Serena looks over, ‘So you’ve now met Baen. Lovely kid, his mother here started training him several months ago. Drang just gave him his first set of durasteel armor. Beskar is reserved for adult armor. No point in giving it to them when it will only fit for months.’
To Vyr: ‘Don’t get too many ideas in your head Vyr,’ he chuckles to himself. ‘It is not a competition, but ideas of eliminating your, yes, comrades, will not go over very well.’ The left side of your face suddenly stings with pain as Ffon unleashes an unpredictable backhand slap to your face. ‘You will be working, fighting, sleeping, and eating with us, and your three ‘friends’ for the duration of your stay with the clan, and killing or seriously injuring a part of the clan will get you exiled or killed.’
Vyr just ignores the slap, he probability earned it. He juts let out a good jolly laugh. Once his eyes stop watering from laughing to hard to replies. "You think I could do serious damage to Gren? Dam, you must think highly go me. You guys wear your armour under your clothes right? Most I could do is break my own hand. Gren could beat the shit out of me in a hand to hand fight without even trying. All of you guys could beat us to death if that is what you wanted but that is not the point. Trust me, I am in no rush to try and fight any of you."
Vyr shuts up to hear the rest of Gren's speech. This is teaching him more about being a clan's men then anything thing before.
"We have all lost something. That is why we are here. Words often result in a bigger punch then fists anyways. Don't worry Ffon, I know my place and it is not in that conversation but here. Shovelling Nerf poop with a new friend and eventual brother. At least I hope. I was more worried about Anders doing something stupid." Vyr just goes back to work.
To Tarros: ‘So, Tarros, why do you want to become Mando? Everyone has a different reason, I would like to know yours.’
Tarros looks down sheepishly. "I made some bad choices a few years back. Got tangled up with the Hutts. I'd carry spice for them, take it cross-country through wildernesses to avoid authorities."
"One day I figured I had enough, and said so. Next thing I know, they say I nicked some glitterstim and I've got enforcers after me. We were in the equatorial region on Moralan at the time, so I just walked off into the jungle 'till I reached a spaceport and took the first flight outta there. Figured that I didn't want to live my life on the run, and that a place like this is likely the safest I'll find. Just about spent the last of my pay to get here."
"Well hello there," says Axel to little Baen, who kicks the large man in the shins again. This time Axel grabs the boy by the waist and hoists him into the air at arms length. "My what a brave young warrior to so boldly approach this giant," he says with a wicked grin, "is that how your mommy and daddy taught you to greet strangers?"
Then he sees the two women glaring at him so he puts the boy down. once freed of his grasp, Baen delivers a quick sucker punch to Axel's groin and then dashes off into the next room. Axel reels, then gets straightened up. Boy, the people around here sure are friendly...
"Charming little brat," he says, "so what's for lunch and how can I help?"
"...But if you think I'm not good enough for you, then hit me, I will not back away."
Anders, having taken a step back at the force of Gren's anguish, steps forward again.
"HIT ME! Hit me, and don't question my methods again. Hit me, and then we will continue your training."
This is a bad idea. Anders moves as if to hit Gren, but lunges in for a hug instead.
"You've been hit enough, ba'buir. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la."
Anders quickly lets go, and steps far enough back that he is just outside Gren's reach.
"Teach me." Anders says humbly, privately marveling that he hasn't been hit yet.
Ba'buir = Grandfather
Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.= Not gone, merely marching far away. (Tribute to a dead comrade.)
To Vyr: ‘Armor under our clothes? Nah, young’n, that’s just Gren, crazy vod, that man.’ He shrugs, ‘But he’s a good guy, at heart, he has just lost a lot, and it has made him into a hard man. The only person I know who can stand against him in a ring, and not visibly shake in their boots is Drang, if possible he’s crazier.’ He shakes his head, ‘Crazy barves. Come on, let’s go to lunch.’ He begins leading you over to several tables set up to eat at.
To Tarros: ‘Safe? You think Mandalore is safe? Mando’s are some of the nuttiest people in all the galaxy. This is not a safe place, for areutiise, anyway. But we will teach you to survive, and if you survive here, the Hutts need not bother you.’ He looks at you, and says ‘But you have a good reason to come here, better than a lot I have heard over the years. Everyone comes here under different circumstances. Now, when I arrived here, a long time ago, that was an interesting experience. As you know, I was a Jedi Master of the Old Republic. In those days, relations between Mando’s and Jedi were not good. I was sent by the Jedi Council to hunt down a bounty hunter who had killed several Jedi Knights. He was a very accomplished warrior, and when I had eventually tracked him here, I discovered that he had been forced to murder those knights to protect his family. His family had been captured and held against their will by a Dark Jedi Master. In good conscience, I could not strike him down, as he had been coerced into his actions. I returned to the Jedi Council, and informed them of my findings. They ordered me to return and end that Mando’s life anyway, in retribution for his actions. Instead, I left the order, and returned to the warrior. Instead of killing him, I helped him to hunt down, and destroy the Dark Jedi holding his family. When we returned, I informed him of my intentions not to return to the Jedi Temple, and he offered me the chance to stay here and become Mando. He formally adopted me that day, and I became part of the Revik clan. That man was the grandfather of young Gren training your friend. I guess that makes me his uncle.’ He looks wistfully off into the distance, possibly remembering times of his youth, and says ‘Well, let’s head back, it’s almost time for lunch.’