[Edan-khan]
Coming out into the snowy landscape he immediately noticed two groups that had him raising an eyebrow. It appeared that the two groups had been about to clash when their ship crashed. Interesting. But what was more interesting was the the way the Force reacted to his presence. Half of it was singing in exaltation and the other half was weeping in despair.
He'd never felt anything like it before in his fifty years of life.
Keeping his composure he turned back to the ship. With a group of Mandalorians here they would at least be some help, assuming they weren't traitors who refused to recognize Mand'alor Ordos' rule.
"Fett!" He called back into the ship, sensing that his entourage were finally pulling themselves together.
Devrim emerged from the ship, looking to him for his orders.
Edan motioned towards the group of Mandalorians nearby, who were standing around gawking like a group of young recruits. "Find out who their leader is and bring them to me. If they are traitors you may deal with them as you see fit."
The man thumped the center of his chest with a fist and set off towards the Mandalorians at a fairly fast jog.
With that dealt with Edan turned his back on the group of Jedi, who were still only standing there and watching him intently, and carefully bent the sharp edges around the hole he'd made. Once it was no longer dangerous he stepped up and held out his hand.
Rubra grinned at him tiredly as he helped her out of the ship. He could sense that she was rattled by the crash and drained from helping him keep the ship intact. "Wow, they're really jumpy aren't they?" She asked, spying the Jedi nearby.
He chuckled as he peered into the darkened ship. "Qatia, keep an eye on them. If they become aggressive and refuse to parley with us, take out their leader first."
"Highness." Her presence faded entirely.
Rubra leaned against him then, hugging his waist and forehead pressed into his side.
"Are you alright?"
There was a small growl from his adopted daughter and a feeling of exhaustion over their bond.
"We'll rest soon." He promised, running his hand gently over her horns and short black hair. "But right now you need to let go. I can feel the Jedi readying themselves for something."
With an annoyed huff and a small headbutt of affection the young zabrak let him go and stepped away to quietly sulk.
He chuckled. Sometimes he forgot she was still only a child of eleven years and had a long way to go still before she would become a formidable Sith in her own right.
Behind him he could sense Dr. Ansom and turned to see the man helping Prof. Kueli out of the ship with a prodigious use of curses. The older of the two men stumbled on some of the debris and both nearly lost their footing. Edan quickly reached out with the Force to steady them and was given a nod of gratitude by the medic. Dr. Ansom moved the two of them away from the ship and sat Prof. Kueli down, checking the bandage around his head carefully.
"This is a hell of a situation we've found ourselves in." The man snarled in his less than refined accent.
"Any crash you can walk away from is a good one." Pelios said calmly as she finally made her way outside. "But this is definitely a less than ideal planet to crash on." Hugging herself she shivered from the cold and looked out at the snowy landscape with a feeling of dread around her.
People often forgot that although the iktotchi homeworld was rocky and barren it was also arid and warm. Her people did not to well in the ice or cold.
Unhooking his cloak he stepped up to his pilot and threw it over her shoulders. She blinked at him in surprise for a moment before a small smile of gratitude crossed her face.
"Thank you, Highness." She muttered quietly, huddling into the cloak that was fairly short on someone of her height but thankfully covered her most vital organs.
"Think nothing of it. It was your expert piloting that got us this far. We owe our lives to you." He said graciously, smiling.
"Fa-" Rubra glanced at the Jedi in the distance and huffed. "Master. I can sense there are still living people trapped inside. Should we… help?" She asked, glancing at the wreckage of the ship.
Taking a mental step back he thought deeply on the matter. Any one of them could have been the saboteur and when all was said and done he only trusted his own personal entourage. Each of them had been hand-picked and were wholly loyal to him. Not even the Emperor's words would supersede his own if he were to give them an order. However… having the extra troops and crew around would be very useful. Especially if there were more Jedi on the planet than those nearby.
Making up his mind he reached out with the Force and found the bright spots of life within the twisted metal. Exerting his power he activated the fire suppression system and cleared away any debris in the path of his troops. Now that they weren't trapped they would go about rescuing the rest of his people.
When he was finished he shifted his attention to the officers who were finally making their way outside. Most of them were sitting or kneeling in the snow, shivering slightly, while a few stood around looking lost. He even heard one of them thanking the Force for their lives.
"Highness." Captain Fervan saluted as he came to stand next to him. "What are your orders, Sir?"
Edan nodded at the man, acknowledging his presence. "Captain. For the moment we take care of our people. Gather whatever emergency supplies you can and begin rationing them. Ensure that the medics get the largest share for the time being." He turned his focus back to the Jedi, who had yet to attack. "Once Ser Fett returns I will readdress the issue of supplies."
The man watched him for a moment, eyes calculating, before he saluted once more. "As you command, your Highness."
Rubra came to stand next to him and when he glanced her way she was rolling her eyes at the Captain. He gave her an amused nudge in the Force and she grinned.
"When is Cabur coming back?"
He let out a small huff. "So impatient, apprentice mine. Devrim will return once he's finished with the other Mandalorians." Whether that meant enlisting their aid or writing them all off as traitors he had no idea. Hopefully it would be the former. They couldn't afford a battle on two fronts at the moment with the troops at half their usual power.
"May the Force be with us all."
[Devrim]
After the crash Devrim's mood wasn't in the best place, and having to leave his charges behind hadn't improved it any. He didn't even get to check if either of them were alright before he was being sent off to speak with what looked like a scattered group of Mando'ade that had yet to pull themselves together.
It was a pathetic display but as he came closer he realized the group hadn't been ready for the attack at all. This was a resting camp with wounded. They'd been between battles and caught unawares.
He grimaced. What had their scouts been doing, drinking?
Stopping a short distance away he scanned their armor and his grimace turned into a scowl. Their armor was piecemeal and scattered in design. Some even looked like they had incomplete sets. At least the Kyr'bes symbol gave some indication of their affiliation. Now whether they were loyalists or a splinter group who just kept the symbol for themselves…
Switching to external comms he planted his feet and addressed the group as a whole, ignoring the weapons pointed in his direction. No Mando'ad would begrudge another pointing a weapon, it was just good practice. Now if one of them shot at him, on the other hand, that was a different story altogether.
"I am Devrim Fett, of Clan Fett, bodyguard of Ven'alor Edan-khan Roguardia. He wants to talk with your Commander."
The group stood there stiffly, the air around them anxious and uncertain. Many helmets turned towards a particular warrior in unpainted armor, a sign or regret or mourning, with red detailing, which was meant to honor a parent or ancestor.
"You claim to be a Fett?" The warrior asked, striding forward confidently.
Devrim frowned at the oddness of the accent, how the syllables rolled a little differently than he expected. But, they were intelligible so he ignored it. A lot of Mando'ade were adopted into the culture and some species had a hard time vocalizing to begin with. So he wouldn't judge.
"I do, because I am. Do you challenge my claim?" He demanded, voice lowering to a threatening growl. He was proud of his lineage as a grandchild of Vorten Fett and descendant of Cassus Fett. Both had served the Mand'alor of their time with distinction.
"Yes." They lifted their chin defiantly, one hand on their blaster. "I am Jango Fett, of Clan Fett and House Mereel. I do not know you."
Devrim stared at the warrior for a long moment, searching his memory for anyone in the family line with that name. "I do not recognize your name." But to be fair the Fett Clan was not a small one. There were no doubt offshoots that had gone on to do their own thing. "Regardless, I was sent here on orders by my Alor, who is allied with the Mand'alor. My mission has higher priority, and I require the presence of your Commander."
Surprisingly this did not make the group aiming weapons at him relax. If anything it made the atmosphere become far more tense. He overheard one or two mutterings about a Death Alliance, but he couldn't be certain of the words.
"Vizsla!" Came the snarl from the warrior who called themselves Fett.
Devrim canted his helm, showing visible confusion. If it hadn't been for the sheer vehemence the Mando'ad spat the name of the Clan he would have assumed they were Shae Vizsla supporters who refused to acknowledge the new Mand'alor. "Vizsla? Vizsla hasn't been Mand'alor for a while. I don't know what rock you've been hiding under but the war is over. It is Mand'alor Ordo who rules now."
A warrior in green armor with blue around the visor stepped forward. "Jango is the Mand'alor, and we'll follow no one else!"
Devrim laughed. "This whelp?" He asked, knowing it would push the younger warrior closer to anger. An idea suddenly sprang to mind and he grinned inside his helmet. "I could put them in the dirt without trying. To the Mand'alor it would be like swatting an insect."
"You ready to back those words up with action?" The younger Fett growled.
"Of course. You and me in the Circle, whelp, no weapons. Just straight hand to hand combat."
Jango appeared surprised for a moment before nodding in agreement.
Without preamble he released his cloak and set it on the snow before unhooking his belt a nd tossing it on top. He watched the other Fett as a couple of warriors came to stand next to them, talking over comms heatedly. Taking off all of his visible weapons he tossed a couple of the hidden ones down as well. There were more but they were part of his armor and he didn't feel like giving the other Fett's warriors an advantage if shit went sideways.
As he was disarming the other Mando'ade were gathering into a circle. Some of them looked like walking wounded and a few who looked fresh stood on the outside, watching the Jetiise for any movements.
Devrim approved. Just because they were distracted by Edan didn't mean they wouldn't launch an attack on the distracted Mando'ade.
"You ready?" The other Fett called over to him.
"Ready." Devrim left his weapons and made his way into the Battle Circle, meeting Jango in the middle. "Who will be the judge?"
"I'll be judging." The warrior from earlier stepped forward. "Myles Vhehn, Clan Vhehn and House Mereel." They turned to look at him. "Do you find this acceptable?"
Devrim nodded. The Vhehn Clan was nearly as old as his own and were known for their fairness. "I do."
"What are the terms?" Vhehn asked, looking between them.
"I win, your leader swears to aid Ven'alor Roguardia." He answered immediately.
Jango looked up at him, shoulders tilted in a manner Devrim would call 'suspicion.'
"Alor?" Vhehn turned to the younger Fett.
"I win, you help us put down the Jetiise and Kyr'tsad." The way they were watching him he felt like it was a test of some kind.
"Never heard of Kyr'tsad before, you'll have to fill me in." Whoever they were, the very name seemed to rattle the group Jango was leading. It may be something Edan wanted to look into.
"Do you both agree to the terms?"
"I accept." He said, just as Jango did.
Vhehn nodded to them both then made their way to the edge of the Battle Circle. They held up their arm, waiting for a few moments, before dropping it again. "Begin!"
The younger warrior launched themselves at him and he snorted in amusement as they tried to aim for an apparent weak spot in his armor. The young warrior had guts and good instincts.
The scuffle between th two was fast paced and brief. It was obvious they focused on wildly different combat styles. Although the young warrior wasn't a novice there was something about their movements that didn't sit right with Devrim. After another poorly timed attack he realized that Jango had never fought Force users before. Their skills weren't honed on beings that could and would move faster than you could think before hitting you with brutal efficiency.
Planting his boot into the center of the young warrior's back, between the shoulder blades, he yanked their arm back and up. If the young warrior tried to get up their shoulder would be dislocated and completely useless. "I suggest you stay down." He said calmly.
The young warrior growled. "The fight isn't over yet!"
Devrim pressed harder onto their back, putting mor of his considerable weight onto them. "Listen, I don't want to break you. I need you fighting fit to talk with Ven'alor Roguardia." He looked towards the judge of the bout. "This is a Challenge, not a Duel. Make the call." He tightened his hold on Jango's arm and shifted, making it clear with his body language that he was not opposed to tearing the young warrior's arm out of the socket if it would get him what he wanted.
Vhehn raised his arm. "The winner is Devrim Fett."
The moment they spoke the words he released the young warrior and took a step back. As they turned to look up at him he held out his arm. "You're strong and you've got a good head on your shoulders. All you lack is experience, which you'll get in time."
Jango eyed his outstretched arm for a moment before taking it and allowing themselves to be helped off the snowy ground. Devrim clapped them on the arm and went to fetch his gear. Only to be stopped by one of Jango's warriors holding them out to him.
Once his weapons were back where they belonged he motioned towards Jango. "Come on, we've left Ven'alor Roguardia waiting long enough." Seeing the head of the Jetiise heading towards Edan he frowned. "Make that double time."
Mando'a;
Cabur- Guardian/Protector.
Mando'ade- Mandalorians/Mandalorian people.
Kyr'bes- Mythosaur skull used as a symbol by the True Mandalorians.
Alor- Leader/Chief.
Mand'alor- Sole Ruler, the warrior leader of the Mandalorians.
Jetiise- Jedi plural.
Ven'alor- Future Leader, colloquially Heir.
Kyr'tsad- Death Watch, Mandalorian terrorist group opposed to the True Mandalorians.