The Passing of a Legend

The rain clouds had parted only last night, easing up on their drizzle and allowing the sun to shimmer through the breaks in them today. Tall grasses of the plains of Shogun danced about in the silver and gold lighting the patchy sky gave them. A pyre of wood was the final bed for a lone figure, tall, graying, scarred and worn but still with some strangely noble bearing that one just couldn’t put their finger on. Not unless you’d known the man yourself. Ceremonial dress clothes fluttered slightly in the mild breeze that picked up every once in a while, the hushed voices of those in attendance adding a surreal background noise to the otherwise quiet day. Off to the side, a short distance from the gathering crowd, stood a lone figure…one of the pallbearers for the body as they’d brought the man to this final resting place. Garbed in that ancient blue and black armor, helm caught up firmly in one black gloved hand beneath the corresponding arm, blue leather kama embroidered with Duum motir ca'tra nau tracinya. Gra'tua cuun hett su dralshy'a- "Let all those who stand before us light the night sky in flame. Our vengeance burns brighter still."[/i] in white and gold Mando’a lettering, and blue and black cloak trailing behind, the petite feminine figure was something almost fearsome to behold. That burning auburn hair (kept short and layered), and those familiar three strands of beads trailing down over one shoulder did little to help the image, especially with the golden "Jaig eyes" painted along the visor of her helm.

Every once in a while the glint of sun on colored armor would catch and glint on emerald green eyes, glistening from the tears that she refused to let fall freely now that she was here. The red in those eyes, along her cheeks and nose, however, showed that she had been crying fairly hard for quite some time. Despite this, the young woman was a barely held mask of calm. Not a sound was heard from her as those invited to Solus’ad’s funeral found their friends and their seats. It was still early yet and mainly those of the special operations division were here, only a few of the other high ranked officers already here, but there were more filtering in every moment that ticked by. Italia hadn’t said a word to a soul the entire time…not even her brother. What was there to say? Or rather…what was there to say that they would care about or even approve of after hearing? Nearly her entire team had been annihilated or were MIA…including Mandalore. They wouldn’t care what she had to say about the matter…it was inexcusable, and she couldn’t imagine anyone approving of… A sigh escaped her, those green eyes closing and brow furrowing in a pained look.

Mando…ika…

Yeah Sol, I’m right here. We’re gonna get ya outta this, you hang in there, right? Gar shuk meh kyrayc, right?

Again she winced, eyes closed, and shook her head. She’d known…she’d known he was going to die. She’d even dreamt of it…twice…albeit he’d not been killed in any way similar to what had actually happened. He’d received that damn injury because of her too! That was the only similarity…no matter how she’d seen him die, dream or reality, it had always been because of her! Couldn’t she have done ANYTHING differently?! There had to have been…but…why…why had it been him? Why him and not her? Why did he have to try and be a hero for her?

Why the hell did ya have ta go an’ be such an utreekov, Solus’ad? Gettin’ yerself stabbed an’ the like…always tryin’ ta be a gorram hero…

Meh gar kyrayc, shuk bah ni, Lia. Ni liniba kar’taylir gar oyayc.

“You’re no good to me dead, Lia. I need to know you’re alive.” Another shake of her head and those green eyes opened again to gaze at his lifeless form. All the times she’d told him that exact same thing…here on Concord Dawn the night before they left during her dreams, the day before they reached Shogun while they were on the Star…they all echoed through her mind. Hadn’t he said during the briefing for Shogun itself that “no fighting unit needs a hero, heroes get people killed, themselves included.” Yes…he had.

Just promise me, Mando’ika, that you’ll find mirjahaal and keep your mandokar.

…but…

That’s…an order Italia…

I…yes, I promise…of course I promise, Sol, but…

He’d made her promise, ordered her, to find her peace of mind again, to heal, after his death and to keep her fire, but…how could she? After all of this, what was she supposed to do? How could she stay here and find any peace of mind when even her own home was a painful reminder of what little time they’d spent together? Even that very morning when she’d walked into the kitchen she’d remembered their discussion of the Resol’nare at the dinner table after her mother had wandered off to bed and neither one of them seemed to want to allow the night to end. One, black gloved, hand tightened slightly beside her as it remembered the feel of his as she’d taken it on the way back to the Star.

Kar….kar’taylir…darasuum, Italia…

Kar’taylir darasuum, riduur…udesiir Solus’ad…I’ll be safe enough soon, the Star is almost here…we’re almost th…there….Sol?...Sol! Solus’ad!

That flickering little flame, that spirited spitfire that Lia could be, was nothing but a smoldering pile of dimly burning coals kept warm only by anger and pain and sorrow now. He had told her that he loved her…now he was in suum ca’nara and his spirit had gone to join Manda. That tensed hand curled in on itself, balling into a fist of hardened black leather, her entire form a tense mix of pain and anger. The mandos had gone to Shogun and retaken their world, but the Republic had been the ones to pirunir sur’haaise…to make the mando’s eyes water…to injure them in a grievous way. They had killed their leader. What was worse for Italia…they had killed not only the man she was beginning to love, but the one leader she knew, without a doubt, was capable of leading their people to be seen as not only great warriors, but a great culture of MORE than simple warriors. A man capable of showing the galaxy that, while yes…the Mando’ade were a people without comparison in martial ability…they were also capable of being a people not simply driven by battle…that battle wasn’t the be-all and end-all of their culture. That they were capable of reason, of compassion, of justice, of equality…he was the one man that had proven to her that he cared just as much about his people’s well being as he did about the thrill of a battle and the honor it brought.

You were all heart ‘n’ mind…bravery ‘n’ duty and daring...your people came first no matter what and you showed compassion just as much as ya showed prowess, and the honor ‘n’ glory clung ta you through that, sure enough. People who spoke to ya knew you cared…if someone had somethin’ ta say, you’d actually try an’ hear ‘em out. You were so much more than just a leader…you were a patriarch…a father ta everyone. You knew your family could take care of themselves, but you were always there if they needed ya…sometimes before they needed you, or before they knew they did. Frellin’ hell, Sol…there wasn’t a gorram selfish bone in yer body either. Not a one, ye damned merc…ya shoulda known better than to…they NEED YOU! Why’d he have ta go an’ chose THAT night to be a big damn hero?

Solus’ad Atiniir…the lonely (only) child who endured so much….he had always seemed to think he needed to be alone. That being alone was his lot in life because of his position as Mandalore…but they’d started falling in love, and that love had been the death of him. The guilt she felt was like a vice gripping her and slowly trying to crush her heart and spirit. It had been a mistake…it had all been such a big mistake. If she’d never joined the military, if she hadn’t gone to Shogun, he might not be dead right now. She didn’t regret loving him…but she regretted his dieing in place of her…to save her. This should have been her funeral, not his. Sorrowful green eyes finally turned to look at those gathered…it was nearly time to begin, and she sighed heavily and silently made her way to the seat marked as hers. A fresh pang of sorrow struck at her heart as she almost searched for Mal and Fable…two more that would never be seen again. Fable she hadn’t known long, but Mal…he was a close friend, a brother, and she felt his loss almost as painfully as she felt Sol’s…especially now. As she turned and faced the pyre once more, her eyes caught on Bane for a moment, who wasn’t far away, and for once she saw emotion…a sorrow and pain similar to all of theirs…and she empathized.

Her jaw clenched tightly as she watched them light the wood beneath Solus’ad and she struggled to breathe normally to restrain the tears that threatened to flow freely once more. Even as the chants began, she couldn’t form the words…couldn’t even slacken her muscles enough to mouth them as Bane did without risking those tears. Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum Rish, Buir, Malak, Solus’ad…she repeated silently as the flames danced in the reflection of her eyes. The blood red stripes along the tops of her shoulders in honor of Rish and her father had been added to. New markings, a thin outlining of gold around the top of her T-visor and a gray mythosaur symbol resting along her right gauntlet were in remembrance of Mal and Sol respectively.

Susulur vode
Beten vode
Sha ibic cuun aay'han

Kaysh hetti sha kaysh kote
Ner vod cuyir dralshy'a shya kyr'am.
Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la

Even as the birds chirped in the few trees scattered around and the chanting echoed around behind and around her, the young woman simply couldn’t do anything more than lower her head, letting those layers of hair fall around her face as she closed her eyes and attempted to keep herself together. Even after the ceremony drew on and eventually drew to a close and those around her began to filter out or speak quietly to each other, she remained where she was, feeling heavy. It wasn’t the armor, all the metal and cloth and leather that weighed her down…no, it was just…this whole ordeal. She sniffled a bit and sighed, running her fingers through her hair and down along the beads before finally looking up at the still burning remains. Green eyes shut tight and she simply lowered her head once again as she attempted not to think of the future, but it nagged at her mind constantly...

What would she do now?

[...from Someone Order This Invasion to Go?]



The events from Shogun still heavily weighed on Spec Ops Lieutenant Ambria Arcane's mind. The overall end result had been a victory for the Mandalorians, but she couldn't help but think they had taken huge losses even so. Many loyal warriors had been lost but today she was here to mourn the biggest one of them all: Mandalore.

Her group had arrived back only days before, and the image of the dead leader laying in front of her still would haunt her dreams every so often. Those eyes staring up at her before she reached over and closed them out of respect. How she stayed by his side during the trip off Shogun, throughout the turbulence of dogfights with Republic fighters. She had known her skills as a medic could not help the man, but Ambria couldn't help but not stay near him. His body had to get back to Concord Dawn safely, and she had taken it on as her personal mission to make sure of that. All the other wounded had been cared for, and nothing else had seemed right for her to do.

The days after returning she had spent trying to keep her mind busy, from seeing Solus'ad in her mind... Mandalore who morphed into her dead husband from time to time. She ran and ran, pushing herself until no thoughts had energy to remain in her mind. She spent hours at the firing range, shooting target after target, trying to carve away her personal demons at the same time. The initial shock had worn off, and she knew she had accepted everything by the time of the funeral for their great leader. She would be sad, yes, but she would also feel the pride of every Mandalorian assembled.

And so Ambria stood in the field with the rest of spec ops. But they were not the only ones there. Many had traveled from other Mandalorian-occupied planets to pay their respects and perhaps try to fight for the title of new Mandalore. She had briefly scanned the contingent from her home planet, but recognized no one. Her hope of seeing her family was replaced with a sense of relief. Today was not a day for a reunion, no did she want one.

To give Mandalore the most respect possible, she had donned her amber-colored armor for the occasion, complete with helmet. Generally the emerald-eyed woman preferred more comfortable attire when not in battle mode, but Ambria knew this was an exception. She stood at ease, her gauntleted hands clasped at the small of her back, standing amongst her fellow spec. ops soldiers.

She chanted along with all the others, her lips moving quietly behind her helmet. Her tears were no more, as she thought of the eternal glory and honor of her Mandalore. Only pride was left, pride in her leader, in her culture, in herself as a Mandalorian. Ambria's voice gradually strengthened as well as she chanted, eventually becoming one of the loudest, but drowned out in the immense crowd who were also doing so. At the end, a fist came around and slammed against the chest of her armor as she watched the fire consume their fallen leader.

Her thoughts were uncharacteristically silent as she stared at the bier in front of her on which Solus'ad lay. She hadn't known him personally, but that didn't stop any Mandalorian from knowing of him and his exploits. He would truly be missed. Ambria only hoped that the next to take up the mantle would be just as worthy. These were tough times right now. Though they were beginning to reclaim their territory, it was only a beginning. Much more would be needed in the coming months and years. And they would need a new Mandalore who could handle that.

“Val’ika. Come. Look out and up. What do you see?”

“They’re just clouds Candar.”

“No, Val’ika. Not just clouds. Look at the sun. What do you see?”

“Candar, it’s the sky. That’s all it is.”

“But… look beyond all that Val’ika. It’s more than a sky. It’s a gateway. The only thing separating us from heaven. Look at the rays of the run, Val’ika. See how they shine through? It’s a little taste of heaven, at how beautiful it can be. A special place indeed. The special place everyone is bound for. Val’ika, should I pass on before you, promise me you will gaze upon skies like this and say a hushed prayer and accept heaven’s brief embrace.”

“All right.”

---

The sky looked broken. Like a vase, loosing it’s whole figure. It had been encasing this side of the soil for a little while now, keeping Concord Dawn in the shelter of a dark vase. Something had watered the inside up until the night before. Sunlight had baked the vase to the point it cracked. Streams of sunlight, wealthy gold rays, pierced through and sent light across puddles. The earth glittered for this funeral.

Heaven’s blessing was upon them. The angels of Manda had come to welcome Mandalore into their congregation. No doubt Candar stood among them, peering down at her to be sure she kept her promise. Her lips moved in a breathy prayer. For her vode, old and new. For her aliit, out there somewhere, perhaps, and for her vod that stood beside her that moment. There was a fast one for Orak, especially. One for Solus’ad Atiniir, for his spirit to be guided. The last one was for Malak, for wish his spirit was not stuck in limbo, between life and death somewhere, and that he, too, was ushered through Manda’s gate and greeted with welcome arms.

---

“Where’s Malak?” Bravo team had rushed on board. Ark, Lia, Zeth, and a dead Sol. The mission had gone sorely wrong, she saw by the number of losses. While Mandalore’s death created a settling shock among the members on board, Valry’s true concern lie with what happened to Mal. She glanced at her brother, Jauran, who wouldn’t have a clue, with alarm lighting in her eyes. “We can’t leave him! Where’s Mal!?”

One of Bravo team’s members just slowly shook their head.

A breathe of air ghosted faintly over her lips before she knew it was gone. No! The giant! They couldn’t… just… leave him! But the ship lurched under her, making her stumble, and they rose off. She reached out and gripped Jauran by the forearm, squeezing…

---

She had merely stared into space on that ship. Malak had been a short time friend. Valry had been around losses, yes, but she was still so new to the concept to actual loss. The loss to death. Hated word. Death. It took away anything considered briefly good. There was death to hearing, and death to tongue. Death to eyes, death to mobility. Death to breath, the heart, the body. Death. The word could simply drain anything living. It stole the air as she whispered it, swallowing that air, devouring it with an almost satisfying smack.

Death was dreaded, was hated. It appeared to be the end of the line. It was the ultimate point of no return. An unseen robber that startled and frightened so many. While Death was evil, Valry liked to believe that the evil only lasted a moment. While it did gobble away the operation of the lungs and the beating of a heart, Death was too occupied to notice the handsome spirit that would arise. That spirit would ascend to join other spirits and live in harmony forevermore.

Death had kidnapped her husband. Only for a moment. The evil prowler of the galaxy had been too obsessed with its new catch, the now empty body, to spy on her husband’s kindly spirit sneak away. Then again, maybe Death was always distracted. It wanted more. It craved more, and so therefore pounced from one victim to another, taking their life with the urge to feel satisfaction over and over again.

Or perhaps Death never felt satisfaction and craved to feel the fullness of it? And so it was endlessly bounding upon the earths and stealing breath with an deadly kiss, in desperation it would feel? And when it did not, it writhed in it agonizing emptiness and tried once more, driven mad by this craving?

Gentle Malak. He had made Orak smile…

---

Her knock was answered with the small but harsh tick of an unlocking door. She was met with a proud and welcoming expression of an older lady. The woman’s hands came out and pressed down on her shoulder armor, making Valry meet her with eye contact. The grin spread gently on the older woman’s face, spreading to her husband, who had appeared behind the woman, like it was infectious. Valry did not contract the disease. She stared at the couple who had taken her and Orak in. Her helmet was hooked over her fingers and her rifle was over her shoulder. Her expression remained still and stone except for the blinking of her eyes and the subtle turn of her head as she regarded both the wife and the husband.

“Welcome home.”

The words throbbed in her ears and settled in deep, echoing around the caverns on her head. Welcome home? Home to here or home to Concord Dawn? Were those the words that Malak heard when he left this galaxy?

“Buir!” an excited cry bounded from behind the couple. The husband stepped fully out of the way just in time. A bouncing boy ran forward and attached himself to his mother’s legs, face planting right into her armored stomach with an audible smack. If it hurt at all, Orak showed no sign of it as his arms and hands squeezed her tightly. Valry reached down and stroked her son’s black hair, noticing it had been cut in her absence.

“Let me in, Orak.”

He released her immediately and proceeded to lead the way into the house. She saw he had something clutched in his left hand. Something blue. A little blue speeder. One of Orak’s toys, “vroom vrooms” as he dubbed them. The silly name brought a bitter sweet memory to mind.

She knew why he had the toy. He had been hoping to show Malak how faithful he was in the strange friendship by greeting Malak while holding the gift. The gift Malak had given him before departure to Shogun, while promising his return and to see the boy right when he got home.

“Buir?” Orak asked aloud. The boy’s normal volume sounded like a whisper to her. She blinked, realizing she had been staring at him. He looked back at her with a solemn expression and deep, concerned eyes. “Buir, why sad?”

Valry’s back touched the wall. More like hit it. With a loud , clunky, clumsy sound and her helmet clattered as it harshly kissed the ground. There it rolled back and forth gently. Valry slid down the wall, Orak watching all the while.

“Buir?” he asked again as he approached her again, gently this time, and laid a tiny, child chubby hand on her knee. “Buir, why sad?”

Valry could feel her face grow warm and water underlined her vision. “Orak… Orak… Ori’mando’ad is dead. Malak is dead. He died. Orak…” A dreadful crack opened up in her vocal cords and she reached out to grasp Orak’s arm. He stared at her, black orbs dancing across her nose. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he opened his other hand and looked at the blue speeder toy. Valry felt her hot tears fall over her cheeks as she watched him. He closed the hand into a tight fist around his toy and then stepped forward and fell against her. His arms wrapped around her neck, and she hugged him close, silently holding and crying.

“It’s okay, Buir. Everything be okay…” Despite Orak’s brave words, even she felt the cooling spot when Orak’s tears stained her neck.

---

The clap of proud thunder sounded in her ears. Her fist joined that clap. Only a couple of voices were actually heard saying the chant. Valry said it as airily as she had the prayers, more breath released into the wind than words. Smoke began to lick up Mandalore’s body. Oh, the sadness across the elderly couple’s faces after she had told them Mandalore had died as well as her friend.

Valry knew there was a tear trickling down her face. Her chin remained thrust proudly and she stood up properly with her bitten lips forming the structure of her words passionately. She hadn’t known Solus’ad long, but she worshiped his strength and his leadership. That was plenty enough for her. As the chant was complete and, one by one by one, the fists were lowered, eyes still stared at the burning corpse. Valry turned her head to look at her brother.

What now?

It all seemed a little blurry to Jauran. The sadness, the speed with which it took place, the reunions and the eternal partings. The glories and the losses.

So many sharply contrasting descriptions...Juxtaposed. I suppose that's what war is.

The loss of two of his own Special Operations Mandalorians, Dal'us Brivand and Akios Trayus, already lay heavily on his heart. Dal'us had been killed when the Republic captured them on recon, and Akios had been hit very unfortunately by a lucky shot. If Akios had been in cover at the time, instead of ferrying weapons to Mando's on the rear as Jauran had asked, he'd have been alive. In many ways, Jauran blamed himself for that, afterall, they were under his command, and their safety was his responsibility.

For the greater part of his life Jauran was a strong, collected man. He always remained calm, and he always made the wise decisions. A personality like that is what got him where he was today. There had been one time in his past where he'd truly lost control; and that was with his Sister and Candar.

But after the Battle on Shogun, he was lost. Truly, for the first time in his life, he was gone. Emotionally, phsyically, and mentally overwhelmed. At the battle of Shogun, many of his brother Mandalorians had been taken captive. Mandalore and many of his Special Operations troop had risked, and lost, their lives at that battle. The realization of Mandalore dying left Jauran dazed and confused, stunned even. It was no big suprise for a warrior to die for his country, nor a leader. But the fact that Mandalore had died for his Brothers, for Jauran...That was a heavy toll on his mentality.

Jauran was use to saving others. He was the special force, he was the leader. He was the one that helped lead troops into battle. When a battallion of troops were pinned down and in dire trouble, Jauran and his group would rush into the front lines to hold the enemy off. When Mandalore needed help, it would have been Jauran charging and dying for him. His entire life had been devoted to Mandalore. A Mandalore he'd never met, a Mandalore he'd never truly known, Jauran would have gladly, hell, enthusiastically, died protecting Mandalore, Mandalorians, or any of his people. That was his lot in life. He was a protector.

Yet Mandalore had died for Jauran and all of the captive Mandalorian people. It only proved that truly, Jauran's life had not been wasted, that the Mandalore he had served was a true Mandalorian, he was everything that any Mandalorian could be. He WAS Mandalore, to the fullest. In that way, Jauran was fulfilled, overjoyed. All honor to Mandalore's sacrifice!

Yet it also killed him slowly inside. If there was a way he could die in place for Mandalore, he would. But whatever Force or God's this galaxy had surely would never accept Jauran as a replacement for Mandalore. By law of equivalent exchange, they'd have to demand that every last true Mandalorian to the very bit would die in place of Mandalore.

The loss of Mandalore, one of Jauran's three driving purposes in life ( Blood, Mandalore, and Clan. ) left him devastated. He knew he would recover. But never would he allow himself to forget.

And then there was Valry. He was glad to see her alive, and even well. But the memories of those last moments, leaving Shogun, shamed and haunted him.

“Where’s Malak?” A distressed Valry Justic had called out to him, boarding the ship with the rest of her team. Jauran turned to her, not liking the distress in her voice. Hearing the almost icy panic buried inside of her. This Malak, he could tell, was important to her. And apparently he wasn't here. The shufflings of other Mandalorians and the fact that nobody looked Valry in the eye lead him to bad conclusions. Whoever it was, they weren't here.

Valry glanced to him, and he met her gaze, worry in his own eyes as well. What could he do? The engines of the ship began to rev. The ship moved. They were leaving without her friend.

“We can’t leave him! Where’s Mal!?” Her cries bit deeply into him like knives. He didn't know what to do. He'd always been there to protect her, he'd always been there for his Sister, and now she needed him. But what could he do? He felt like roaring, jumping off the ship, like making some effort to go find this man he'd never heard of. Those final, pained cries of 'Where's Mal!?' Echoed like a dull throb in his head. She squeezed his arm tightly, he could feel her pain, and that pained him as well.

But what could he do? He did the only thing he could do. He wrapped his hand around hers and held on tightly as well, a weak show of compassion, but all he could muster in this moment of chao...

The flames gently licked Mandalore's body, spreading across his form. It ate away at the skin, yet caste a magestic hue over his entire body, bathing him in its intensity. It reflected a life of passion, a life of leadership. The swirling, crackling of the fire and the intense heat that radiated off of Mandalore's body was his final goodbye to his peoples; the smoke was his ashen soul ascending to the skies.

All around, Mandalorians clapped their fists to their chests. Jauran did this too, as well as his wife Cassandra, to his right. In his left arm, he cradled his daughter. And out from him and his wife, both in armor save for their helmets, cried out in song to honor their leader, a testament to the great respect that Mandalore commanded.

Jauran's voice cried out clearly and smoothly, he'd never been a very vocal person, but when he needed to, his voice could be gentle as a brook or as raging as the river rapids. His voice did not ascend all those around him. He actively did his best to harmonize, to give forth the best song he could muster for Mandalore, his child sleeping soundly in his arms, as though it were a lullaby.

He glanced down to Valry Justic. She stood with determination and sadness at the same time. Her pain was greater than his. Her pain mattered to him more than his own. He just couldn't think of what to do to make her cheerful again. Of course, now was not the time for words, that would come after the ceremony. Now was the time for respect.

(((Decided to move on to the feasting...)))



Gradually the large group of Mandos began scattering in smaller groups of two or three after paying their final respects to their fallen leader. Ambria stayed a moment longer, standing in mournful silence, before she also went off to begin the celebration portion of the day. A celebration that was duly needed for all of them and she thought, especially for those who had come in from Shogun days before. Her amber helmet nodded to the bier which had held Solus'ad's body. His was a loss her people would feel dearly, but he had died in glory, and they would also honor him with joyous feasting and not wallowing in sorrow.

She turned away then, satisfied with enough closure, to head along with the others towards where the scores of food were set up for all of them to enjoy. There would be time later to deal with all the politics and maneuvering and the official business of electing a new Mandalore, but right now, on this afternoon, all the Mandalorians gathered on Concord Dawn would eat and be merry. The swell of colored armor all around her made Ambria smile behind her visor. Though she only knew a very small percentage of them, they were all her people. All beings she was proud to call her own.

All the food smelled so delicious and looked so tasty that Ambria piled her plate high with various meats and other delights, balancing it on one hand as she held a drink in the other. The long wait in line for her turn to fill up from the feast had only heightened the fact that she was starving, not having been able to eat all that much since returning from Shogun. The headaches were lessening, but her appetite still hadn't returned. But now that she and everyone else had finally put their Mandalore to rest, along with her own personal demons, she walked from the table with a full plate of food.

Ambria found an empty spot of meadow to sit down and eat, not an easy task with all the Mandalorians that had arrived for the ceremony, military and civilian, from half a dozen or more different planets. But she found an ample space to spread out a little bit, not to be alone. This was a time for celebration, and she was hoping for some conversation or company. For now, though, she just simply removed her helmet and set it by her side, scrunched her glass of ale into the grass to steady it and turned to her plate of food.

Oh, it looked so good... and she dove right in, hungrily.

It had seemed, from Airspace Control, down to the flight crew and everyone in between, that Solace and Silence was the par for Concord Dawn these days. It took one conversation to find out why however. Mandalore was dead. This...this was no small feat, that much the Woman knew. She knew no details and wasn't sure if she'd be welcome at the Event, she figured she could try though.

Celke Tarria, Chief Warrant Officer Second Class, hadn't known Lord Mandalore very well, had only worked with him once. It had been an interesting experience. As the woman moved into the Area where they were holding Mandalore's Memorial, she knew that she was horridly late as the Final stanzas of the Chant echoed through the Hall. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, never much of one for this sort of thing. Ambria was approaching, Celke merely turned her head down, shaking her hair, which had become long and shaggy, down into her face, watching the other Female pass.

After a few moment's time, Celke turned, following Ambria to where she walked, sitting across from her in silence and staring across the table, wondering, deep inside, what the hell had happened, how the Mandalorians had lost their Leader, the Best fighter. Clearing her throat, the Violet-haired looked up to Ambria's eyes.

What happened?

She had swallowed a bite of food and was reaching for her glass of ale when suddenly something else was in her field of vision. With her head turned toward towards her beverage it was just a blur of movement at first. Determining that the silent figure was not an immediate threat or someone that required an immediate response, Ambria just kept on her goal--reaching for the glass. But it was when she had it almost up to her lips and finally saw the figure sitting across from her that she froze for a moment, the cup poised in front of her face, not believing.

Where had Celke Tarria come from? Ambria only vaguely remembered the other soldier from a mission from months ago. Afterwards the woman had disappeared, and she had never gotten the full story, at least the truthful one, from anyone else afterwards. She didn't like to think that Celke had deserted the army, but no other conclusion had come to her at the moment. But she did know that whatever her reasons, she would get Celke the benefit of a doubt.

Explanations could wait, though. First things first, there was her question she had just posed to Ambria, a very loaded question, to be sure. After the brief moment of surprise the dark-skinned woman was in control of herself again and set her glass back down in order to concentrate more easily on Celke and any conversation. She decided to start with a short formality before she got into the nitty gritty of what had indeed happened to their Mandalore... and asking where Celke had been all this time.

Ambria smiled. "It's good to see you." She took a deep breath then and paused to think about her answer. Celke had only spoke two words, but Ambria knew that which the other woman was asking about. To anyone else, it might seem a very generic question, but taking the current circumstances into consideration, there was only one thing Celke could be inquiring about. She leveled her emerald-hued eyes at the other Mando woman, not unkindly. "Well, I don't know the specifics. We were split up on our mission on Shogun. I was not in... I wasn't there when it happened. From what I have had a chance to see in the briefings, the other squad came under fire from the enemy. They suffered heavy losses." Ambria shrugged. "I wish I could tell you more. But what I can say... Mandalore did die honorably, and we should rejoice in that."

The only emotion that flowed through Tarria at this point? Fury. She had been on Shogun, had Pushed the General and Mandalore himself to allow her to join the mission. Once they were on-planet? She had been just about forgotten. Her Squadmates had moved ahead, considering that the mission had been more of a Blaster-scenario, and less Hand to Hand than she'd be needed for. Purple hair, grown long on Shogun, in the House that her parents had lived in for so long, was swept from Tarria's face as she scowled. In her Squad's push to get through the mission, she had been...overlooked on withdraw, had barely missed the Shuttle off-planet, and had taken it as a Sign, a way to take a break and get back to her roots.

So that was what she had done. Training her body, honing her skills like one would hone the sharpest blade. Outright abusing crystals that sprouted from Shogun's surface, she had shattered the bones in her hands, only to allow them to heal stronger and stronger. Now, she could probably hit someone's skull full-force without wincing. Even more than that, she had honed her ability to Fire a blaster, without losing target as quickly. She had rounded out her skills in the Month that it took her to find a ride back to Concord Dawn. With any luck, her ship would still be in the Hangers, and the docking fees wouldn't be too high.

Celke was disgusted. Between the Loss of Lord Mandalore, and her own inability to keep up with the Squad she had been assigned to. Staring at Ambria for a moment, a disgruntled noise elicited from The Petite woman's throat. I see she said, finally, turning away from the other soldier, no longer sure about her own purpose in the Galaxy.

Walking out the door of the Hall, Celke decided that the time had come to disassociate herself with Mandalore, with the whole thing. She was still a warrior, but...not with these people. While honor existed here, it seemed none was for her. No, Celke's art was Brutal, animalistic. It held no Honor on a Planet of "Civilized" war. She would find no solace on Concord Dawn.