I leave my ready room with Hunter close behind. Together, we stride out of the main building of the Dxun base camp to find hundreds of Mando'ad gathered. When they see me, the pound a fist to the breastplate of their Beskar'gam armor and call 'Hail Mandalore the Risen!'. I salute them back, and the group parts so that I may walk to the center. A platform has been set up, a stage so that I may stand slightly above my warriors. I do not wish to lord over them, only to be seen by all in attendance. At the foot of the stage stand my parents, Torian and Mako. My father does not break rank, and offers me the same fist pound salute as the others. My mother, not born among the clans, gives me an encouraging nod and a proud smile.
At my signal, Hunter activates the cam droid, then goes to join with the other warriors of Clan Ordo. As I climb atop the stage, I take a moment to look out at all the men and women gathered to hear me speak. I stand at the center of an ocean of warriors, all dressed in painted armor and carrying the banners of each loyal clan. Taking a deep breath, I turn in a 360 degree circle so that I may address each of my warriors. "Nar vode'an! Brothers and sisters! Listen to me!" The camera droid sweeps around me, capturing both my image and my words:
"Before the Republic or the Empire, before the Jedi or the Sith, there were the Mando'ad! Before Coruscant, there was Notron; a vast jungle world ruled by our precursors, the Taung! Our way of life, our warrior culture, our sense of honor and our lust for glory, it all traces back to the days of Notron!" The crowd gives a short cheer, punching their fists into the air. "We have not forgotten those days! When the Nations of Zhell rose up and usurped our throne, and drove us from our home, we did not forget! We built a new empire on a new jungle world! We conquered the great Mythosaurs, and branded their skulls onto our armor!" Another round of cheers, along with a few shouts of 'Long live Manda'yaim!'. I pause a few seconds to allow them to fire themselves up, then I continue:
"When the last of the Taung died out, we did not forget! We, the Humans, Twi'leks, Zabraks, and more, we became the Mando'ad! We dawned the beskar'gam of our fallen ancestors! We took up their weapons, and we drove them into the hearts of our enemies!" Yet more cheers, even louder than before. As if to prove my words were true, some warriors began pounding their armor plates, or waving their Beskad swords in the air. "Today, the Galactic Republic sits upon the ashes of Notron! They have cut down our forests! Built dams in our rivers, and walls through our valleys! They have stolen every centimeter of green, and buried it under kilometers of durasteel! They have stolen the very name Notron, and replaced it with a new name; one that drips of decadence and self indulgence: Coruscant!" I say the name like it is a curse, and my warriors hiss and boo at the name. "Galactic City!" I spit onto the stage, like saying the words left a bad taste in my mouth. More hissing and more booing from the clans. "The Heart of the Republic they call it... But WE! HAVE! NOT! FORGOTTEN!!!" I emphasize each word with a stomp of my foot, and the jeering falls silent.
My blood is up now. I talk back in forth on the stage like an animal, turning in every direction so that I may look all of my warriors in the eye. "Notron is OURS by right of blood! Today, we reclaim what is ours, once and for all! We will plunge into the Republic's Heart and tear it to shreds! We will string their Chancellor up by his own banners! We will parade the Senate through the streets in chains! We will but out the guts of their soldiers, and use the to grease the gears of our Basilisks!" I slash my arm through the air, pantomiming cutting somebody open and pulling our their entrails. Feeling the same passion as me, the crowd throw up their blades and scream in agreement. Drawing my own sword, I raise it to the sky. "We will make certain the Republic NEVER forgets who we are. WHAT we are!"
At the base of the stage, my father steps forward and says "I, Allit'alor Torian of Clan Cadera, pledge myself and my clan to you!" Following his lead, others begin to step forward:
"I, Allit'alor Carridan of Clan Ordo, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
"I, Allit'alor Khomo of Clan Fett, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
"I, Allit'alor Lydi of Clan Viszla, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
"I, Allit'alor Marcogar of Clan Wren, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
"I Allit'alor Enra of Clan Rook, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
"I, Allit'alor Zarka of Clan Saxon, pledge myself and my clan to you!"
I try my best to suppress the grin on my face. Fully embracing my role as Mand'alor, I step to the edge of the platform and raise my voice to be heard above all. "You are all with me?! Then follow me to victory! For honor and for glory! FOR MANDALORE!!!" Those last words are echoed by everyone in attendance. The cheers have become the screams of savages, thirsting for blood.
I planned on slaking their thirst ten times over.
END OF SCENE
