FACTION Kote Ky'ram [Mandalorians, Open to Join]

Discussion in 'Open Roleplaying' started by Tarre Priest, Jul 17, 2021.

  1. Tarre Priest

    Tarre Priest Till the Body is Cold
    - - -

    Jun 20, 2021
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    These past few years, were difficult for Ronald Priest. As the Alor of Clan Priest, as well as the head Armorer, he had been dealing with many difficulties. His son Brom was helping him deal with the day to day tasks. Even as the old man well into his Seventies was respected above all within the clan, and many more, He hated it. Every moment of his life for the past few years, he had been held like a child and codled because of the damn Mir'shupur sigil.

    A set of runes in Mando'a that stood for M-S. Ronald had served for years as a Warrior and only became a blacksmith because of his brain trauma. A wound that would be debilitating, was respected and he would have to wear it for many reasons. Even his grandson Tarre seemed to be rather... soft with him. Though, it could have also been the years they spent together. Learning from each other. While Tarre learned a craft, Ronald, while never openly stating it, learned to love his grandson. One of his many grandchildren who had come to see him.

    It was difficult for Mandalorians in their way of life to just... let go of the habits of war, conflict and battle. This old man, a Bounty Hunter of renowned name was simply walking to his home, when he felt a little dizzy. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, found himself in his bed, being looked over by his son, Brom, and his Daughter Gale.

    "The hell is this?"


    I came as fast as I could after hearing of what had happened. My grandfather had fallen ill. They were not sure of what it was, but it wasn't looking good. They knew he had little time left. I left the contract I was with not caring for the consequences in order to see my grandfather one last time.

    The man who had... trained me. Raised me. Taught me so much about how to be not just a Mandalorian, but a man. There was no question in my mind at all. He was someone who I looked up to. He was the soul reason I became a Mandalorian. Hearing stories of him and his battles as a child, filled me with a fire that would never be doused, never fade, and burn brightly within.

    Even just knowing that he was in such a state, hurt me on a level I never knew existed. As a child, I cried, but upon hearing this news, It took every effort not to break. Every ounce of my being and fiber to not just release myself. It took me no time at all to reach Kiffex. I knew that every moment I was away, was a moment I was letting him down. Letting him fade from me.

    Even before I had landed all the way, the ramp not even touching, I threw on a jetpack and flew as fast as I could through the opening and onward towards the Priest compound. Fields upon fields of crops lay before me as I made my way closer to him. Hearing the whine of the engines as it strained to keep this pace. I didn't care. Landing right at the front door, I threw off the pack outside and almost crashed through the door. My father and mother sitting inside. Seeing the heavy, but full beard of the man whose face I had only seen after I had become inducted into the clan, and my mother's aging but still beautiful face. Both of them were solemn. Filled with a dread, regret, fear?

    "Your bedroom."

    I didn't even speak hello to them. They knew who I was here for. Taking a deep breath, I gathered myself like the man dying in the other room had told, taught me. Being in control of one's soul, would allow him to do many things. I just hoped.

    Opening the door, I could see him resting at the moment. The crack of the door that my T-visor looked through. Seeing his chest moving up and down with his breaths. Soft and barely there. Clenching my hands, I relaxed for him. I needed to be calm. In control.

    "Don't just stand out there son."
    "Yes sir."

    Opening it, Hearing his voice one more time, I entered the room. His face brightening up at my personage. Closing the door behind me, his hand lifted and ushered me closer.

    "Sit. I am sure you are worried."
    "Of course I am you old bastard."
    "Heh. Still as coarse as the day you left for your gigs."
    "Still inconsiderate enough to keel over while I am away."

    We both chuckled for a moment. My frame moving closer to him. Resting down in a chair as my battle-rattle accompanied me. Holding his hand out, I grasped it without a second thought.

    "How's work?"
    "We are not here for that Grandpa."
    "Now that is a phrase I haven't heard in a while."

    Silence came from me. It was difficult to do this. Every thought of the man. While I had seen his face, he had never seen mine. Through this helmet, I have only had one vision of him. Just a man who taught me. But underneath, I needed him to know he was so much more to me. He was my grandpa. My... second dad. The man who taught me who I am today. Releasing his hand, I grabbed the straps of my helm.

    "No, don't do that."
    "Ron, don't."
    "You know the rules."
    "Damn the rules. You are my grandpa. If the only person who ever see's my face is you, then I would live without a soul."
    "Well, I am a dying man."
    "No one else would know."

    A silence between us. One that was finally met with the drop of his hand and a nod of the head. Continuing, I removed the straps. Hearing a hiss of the air-tight seal become broken. Pulling the beskar helmet off of my head.

    His eyes fell upon me. I could see his jaw tightening, and his arms tense up. He was holding back all he could. I could see it. I knew it because I was doing the same. Having a white-knuckled death grip on the helmet. Reaching up, I could feel his calloused hands rubbing my face. Feeling the hands who had built home after home, made the armor I wore, made me who I am. His hands, rough, but gentle.


    Closing the distance, I stood over him in his bed, leaning down and pressed my forehead against his own. My hair falling lightly in front of my face. His hand moving to the back of my head, and mine to his.


    A deep intake of breath. One that I was sure was painful. Yet, the words that came from him will forever ring in my ears.

    "Go find your way. Leave me in your wake. Push through the pain, and don't you dare run away from change. Never settle for less, and leave your mark on this galaxy. Hold your head up high, and follow your heart."

    I could hear every word from him. Ripping my heart as he asked me, he wanted me to move on, but remember him. Words of love and compassion I had never heard from him. In the years I spent with him, he never said I love you, never gave a keldabe kiss, never did anything more than a hug the day I left him, with a handshake to end it.

    This man was passing, and I too, was dying.


    Standing there, I looked at the figure of a man who I had only just began to understand in full. Who he was. How he held everything in. How strong he was. Even unto his last breath, the man was filled to the brim with fight in him. However, he knew this was his time. Seeing his frame... laying on the pyre, unlit but prepared. His soul being sent to Manda. Standing there, My unmoving and held statue-esk person stared at the man who I... loved.

    My father, handed me a torch. The half crafted of a Beskad, with a wood head so that a flame might hold tightly to it. Many members of our clan, and even mandalorians around the Galaxy came out to honor his death. He was a Warrior, a Soldier. While not dying in combat, he suffered from a more dangerous, and deadly enemy. And that, is why he was given a Kote ky'ram.

    A "Glory Death." in which all could see that he was returned home.

    Without words, my father stepped back from me. Singled out, I hated the words coming from my grandfather, but he asked me to be the one to ignite the pyre. I agreed. Feeling the words within me, as well as whispering them softly to myself, I knew I would live up to them.

    "I won't let you down."

    Almost without any feeling within me, I closed the distance, and set the pyre aflame.