Saga "Who Writes, Remains" | Kessel Run 2024-- now with more Mandos!

Title: “Who Writes, Remains”
Author: Raissa Baiard
Timeframe: mostly Saga, possibly some Before
Genre: a little bit of everything
Characters: Mandalorians! (And other EC and OC characters, but mostly Mandos!)

Notes: “Who writes, remains” is a translation of the Mandalorian proverb “Kaysh meg miit'gaana, oyacyi.” (see mandoa.org), and I thank @Findswoman for the suggestion. My aim is to make as many of these stories as possible focus on Mandalorian characters, including my OCs.

Index
1. Tipoca City Blues
2. Blame It on the Loth-cat
3. Vode An
4. Born in Fire

 

Week 1

Title: Tipoca City Blues
Characters: Jango Fett, Boba Fett, Taun We, Obi-Wan Kenobi (mentioned)
Timeframe: PT, during AotC
Genre: family, fluff
Synopsis: Jango Fett faces the realities of being a father.

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta-reading.
-----
The rain hadn’t let up in days, and all I wanted to do was scream.

The rainy season on Kamino, meaning the part of the year during which the rain changes from an inconvenient drizzle to drenching downpour, lasts for months, and we were smack in the middle of one of the worst electrical storm systems to hit in ten years. If it had just been me, I could have handled being stuck in my Tipoca City apartment for a little while. The apartment was on the smallish side and Kaminoan design is a bit sterile for my taste, all shiny white plastoid, but it was far from the worst place I’d ever lived. I could have found enough to keep myself busy maintaining my beskar’gam, my weapons and my jetpack. When your life depends on your arms and armor, keeping them in top form is a full-time job.

But it wasn’t just me. My son was there, too, and by this time he was as restless as a caged nexu.

Ah, don’t get me wrong— Boba’s a good lad, it’s just…

Parenting your own clone turns out to be a lot harder than it sounds. You think that since you have the same genetic code you’d be the same, right? Nah, doesn’t work that way. They aren’t you; they don’t act like you or think like you—and when they do, they act and think like ten-year-old you. Remember how stupid you were at that age? I didn’t either, until Boba reminded me what I’d been like: irrational, undisciplined and prone to getting into scrapes that should have gotten my shebs killed.

And the worst part of it? You can’t even blame any of this behavior on his mother’s side of the family, because there’s just you. It’s all you—nature, nurture, everything. You.

I can’t blame Boba for feeling cramped, but at ten years old, he was smart enough to know where he was allowed to go in the Military Complex and where he wasn’t. But like a lot of boys his age— which is to say, like me— Boba was testing his boundaries. So, I’d think he was studying history or practicing stripping down his rifle or something productive, only for the door chime to ring and have it be Taun We with a sulky Boba in tow. Her round black eyes and pale, thin features were always as sterile and inexpressive as the plastiform architecture.

“Master Fett, we found your son attempting to enter the fusion generation plant,” she’d say. Or sneaking into the Genetics Record Room. Or, once, trying to climb a weather vane. And she’d give a tiny sigh and remind me, “This is not the first such incident.”

Then Boba would give me some bantha-poodoo story about his completely innocent reasons why he’d broken a good dozen rules. And I’d remind him that verde followed their al’verde’s orders, and ade were supposed to respect their buire. And when he was still behaving like a sulky little besom, I’d set him to polishing all the rifles and pretend I didn’t hear him muttering under his breath.

So, yeah, I wanted to scream, but instead I ground my teeth, and told myself that I’d grown out of being a mer’shebla little besom and Boba would, too. Eventually.

And then one day, Taun We came to the door while Boba was still at home, and a bearded aruetii wearing robes and an air of superiority was with her— a Jedi, asking a lot of inconvenient questions.

And just like that, the rain and my recalcitrant kid became the least of my worries.
---

Mando’a words:
Beskar’gam: armor
Verde: soldiers
Al’verde: commanders
Ade: children
Buire: parents, (the word is gender neutral.)
Besom: ill-mannered person
Mer’shebla: smart-assed
Shebs: posterior, butt
Aruetii: foreigner, non-Mandalorian

 

This was adorable and relatable all the same.
Particularly poignant as you know poor Boba will be an orphan in a few days' time.
But getting into papa Jango's mind is definitely a good start. I'm curious to see how your stories continue from here.

 

Oh, I loved this! I always enjoy seeing characters in these simpler, day-in-the-life type settings, dealing with challenges that aren't on a life-threatening galactic-war level.

I'm not a parent myself, but watching the prequels as an adult I feel like I can better appreciate things like Jango and Boba's relationship. Jango's a dad who clearly cares about his kid and is proud of him. And likewise for Boba; he's a son who loves and admires his dad. Anyway, all that rambling is to say that I really enjoyed seeing this side of Jango and his thoughts on parenting in this story.

And because of that, as @ConservativeJedi321 said, it makes it very poignant knowing what happens a few days later.

Excellent start to your Run!

 

This is great, Jango writing about his young Boba just like him when he was a 10 year old and testing the boundaries of where he could go. And the bearded stranger coming. Yes that will lead to....
Love to see more of Mando family life

 

Really enjoyed this perspective on Jango as a dad and how you tied it into the starting line prompt! I can definitely imagine Kaminoan rainy days and an adventurous ten-year-old getting cabin fever would make anyone, even the big bad bounty hunter himself, want to scream. The obvious care that he has for Boba is really endearing as well; it definitely gives a deeper resonance to the little bit of detail we get about them in AOTC.

This was the bit that made me LOL! Because, yes, that sounds like it would be a rather unique aspect of clone parenting.

 

Thank you to everyone for the wonderful comments; I'm going to come back tonight when I have more time to respond properly, but I wanted to get Week 2 posted before the deadline. (DRL has been very hectic for me this week, so I'm seizing the moment to post )

Week 2

Title: Blame It on the Loth-cat
Timeframe: OT
Genre: Fluff, humor
Characters: Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, a Loth-cat
Synopsis: Ezra gets a surprise when a Loth-cat brings him Sabine’s sketchbook

Notes: Thanks to @Mira_Jade for suggesting a story in which a beastwarden learns a secret from an animal, and thanks to @Findswoman for encouragement and beta-reading.
----------
It was a rare quiet day on Lothal, and the Spectres finally had a chance to relax. Hera and Kanan played dejarik in the Ghost’s common room while Chopper offered advice and criticism. In his cabin, Zeb grooved to The Best of Kartni Entwiss, occasionally playing air quetarra, since Ezra wasn’t there to see him. Sabine took her sketchbook and colored pencils outside to do some plein air drawing.

Elsewhere on the prairie Ezra was meditating. He could feel the Living Force around him in the warmth of the sun, the kiss of the breeze, the sound of the prairie grass rustling around him….

“Mrrrrow!”

….the Loth-cat head-butting his knee.

Ezra opened his eyes; the cat was smirking up at him with a flat, rectangular object in its mouth. It radiated an air of being insufferably pleased with itself (not unusual for a Loth-cat, really).

“Hey, what’ve you got there?” he asked the cat, because it clearly wanted him to.

Beaming with delight, the cat dropped its prize: a spiral-bound volume of actual paper. Its cover was decorated graffiti-style and read “Sabine’s PRIVATE sketchbook” in bold, purple lettering. Just in case anyone was still tempted to take a peek, there was a stern warning below in red: “KEEP OUT! (This means you, Ezra Bridger)”. That last part always struck Ezra as unnecessary and frankly a bit insulting, because while he might have been curious what Sabine was so being secretive about, he wasn’t going to tempt her wrath to find out.

“Where’d you get this, huh?” he asked the Loth-cat. “Sabine’ll be looking for it; I’d better get it back to her. I just hope she doesn’t think I took it.” Ezra reached out, but the cat nudged the book away.

The cat nosed at the sketchbook’s cover and bumped it up until it opened. Its already impossibly wide smile grew even wider.. “Mrrrow!” it insisted. * Look! *

Ezra couldn’t help it.

It was a drawing of him.

Or rather, several quick sketches, each with a different expression-- cheerful, moody, sleepy, angry. None of them were terribly detailed but each managed to capture the essence of their subject. Some had notes: “Very Serious Eyebrows”, “needs his hair trimmed”, “that smile though…”

“Er…” Ezra didn’t know why it was faintly unsettling to find his own image in Sabine’s ultra-top-secret sketchbook. Because she probably drew all the Spectres, right? Not that he was going to look and see, of course. He reached for the book again.

But the cat wasn’t finished. It carefully hooked a claw into the corner of the paper and turned the page.

Which was also a picture of Ezra, carefully rendered in colored pencils, along with his name in ornate blue and orange letters. (“This is not blue enough for his eyes” was scrawled beneath in blue pencil.) The Loth-cat grinned and flipped another page—more expression studies, bordered by tiny Loth-cats with hearts in their eyes— and another (Ezra with his lightsaber, posed like a Jedi action hero from one of the old comics)— and another (Ezra wearing orange beskar’gam: “He’d look good like this. Orange is the color for shereshoy— so appropriate”.)

“Okay!” Ezra finally snatched the sketchbook away from the cat. “I get the point. And now I’m going to take this back to Sabine before she—”

“Ezra!”

He slammed the sketchbook closed and struggled to his feet. “Hey, Sabine!” Was his voice always that high? “Hi! I found… actually, the cat found… and brought it to me… so I could give it to you, I guess…. here!” He thrust the book towards her, smiling a smile that felt too wide.

Sabine’s eyes widened when she saw what he was holding. She grabbed the sketchbook and clutched it to her. “You didn’t—“

“NO! I didn't open it!” He couldn’t help it that the Loth-cat, like many of its species, was kind of a jerk with no sense of boundaries.

“You’re sure…?”

“I’m sure! I mean, it says ‘Ezra keep out’ right there.”

“Right.” Sabine nodded, still holding the book tightly against her chest. “Of course.”

“Right.” Ezra nodded back.

“I guess…I’ll be going then…”

“And I’ll…get back to meditating…”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“All right, then…” Sabine didn’t run, but she moved very quickly in the direction of the Ghost.

The Loth-cat gamboled around Ezra, reveling in the awkwardness of this moment, its smile impossibly wide. It was so pleased with itself and its own cleverness that Ezra was surprised it didn’t explode. He couldn’t always understand everything Loth-cats were thinking, but this time the gist was clear: Now you know! My work here is done!


Notes:
The Best of Kartni Entwiss: fanon musician who Zeb listens to in @Findswoman ‘s story Sure Looks Strange to Me
Shereshoy: Mando’a word meaning lust for life, joie de vivre.

 

I love how Zeb plays air quetarra while listening to music.

But OH! The secret and how it gets out is FUN! All those sketches with little notes and hearts.

Sabine is undeniably smitten.

 

Of course Chopper has an opinion on the best way to play Dejarik. (Now I want a story about him playing Chewie, see where that goes )

That is one smart, and one nosy Loth-Cat. But the poor creature pressuring Ezra to read actually warms my heart.

 

Ezra and the Loth cat revealing those secrets. Hilarious fun

 

Raising your own clone: the ultimate act of deliberate single-parenting. Very Mandalorian, to deliberately chose the hardest possible way to do something. Surprised it's not more common in their culture.

 

Not only is it nice to see the crew getting some downtime, it makes for some great mental images too (Zeb and his air quetarra!).

Awww! And again, I can picture this whole scene so clearly.

I just love how adorable and awkward they are about the whole thing. I mean, it's completely understandable and I would 100% feel the same. But as a reader, it's just so cute!

This was a brilliant use of the prompt and I really enjoyed it!

 

Finally caught up!

Tipoca City Blues

Can I first say what a great title this is? It just fits moody Jango to a tee, and you have his voice down perfectly; I could just hear Temuera Morrison saying all that. And boy, it's the ultimate single parent situation here, nature, nurture and all. To think that I go nuts when my kids are cooped up indoors, and this is Athens rain we're talking about, not Kamino! I loved how you brought this story to an ending where it suddenly connects directly to the saga, and as Jango says, raising his kid/clone suddenly stops being the problem on his plate.

Blame It on the Loth-cat

Very different tone in this one I could just picture that dastardly Loth-cat with it Cheshire grin doing its very best to cause as much awkwardness as possible between the two teenagers – and funnily enough, where Sabine is usually portrayed as much more mature than Ezra, here it's her notebook and the little heart-eyed Loth-cats that come across as the teenagest of teenage stuff! It seems that Ezra's beastwarden talent has unforeseen consequences sometimes, and this is one of them.

 

Thank you! I'm glad that you enjoyed it! The Fetts aren't characters I usually write, and it was a fun challenge to write a domestic interlude with them, though a bit bitterswwet, as you note, given where this story falls in their timeline.

Thank you! I enjoy writing these more slice-of-life type of stories. Maybe because I'll never fight against an evil Empire, but I sure know what it's like to be cooped up with a kid who is SO COMPLETELY BORED. My observations on parenting spill over onto Jango here. It's funny how one can be a proud and loving parent and still think that your sweet child is a smart-aleck little heathen sometimes And with that feeling come the realization that your parents felt the same way about you.

Oh, yeah...I think on some level we all expect to get a "mini-me" when we have children, but it turns out that even when they are like us, it's not always our best traits that they emulate It's always fun for me to write the more domestic side of the Mandalorians, (they can't always be blowing stuff up), but they have such unique cultural ethos that domestic is relative and the care and maintenance of weapons is basic home ec for young Mandos.

Thank you! I'm sure Boba tested those boundaries hard, just like his father! I'm sure there will be more stories of Mandalorian family life to come in this challenge!

That nature/nurture dichotomy was one of the things that struck me when I thought about Jango parenting his clone, Sometimes in SW novels, clones are treated as sort of a hive mind (looking at you here, Timothy Zahn), but while Jango and Boba are genetically identical, they've had different life experiences. But Jango is also responsible for many of the experiences that have shaped Boba. There's no one he can turn to and say "he gets this from you" when Boba does something stupid. It's all him

I'm sure she does! But I'm also sure that as much as Jango grits his teeth at these moments, he wouldn't want Boba to be docile.

Thanks! The prompt just reminded me of the scenes in AotC with the endless rain drenching Kamino and the claustrophobic air it gave to everything. I think one of the great things about this challenge is the way it sparks ideas that are "out of the box". The Fetts aren't usually my cup of shig as far as Mandos go, but getting into Jango's headspace and thinking of him as a single dad rather than just the big bad bounty hunter has given me a new appreciation for him and Boba. I'm glad that you enjoyed the story.

(Working my way through responses, but RL continues to be a bit of a Darth, so please bear with me )

 

Week 3

Title: Vode An
Timeframe: Before, before and during the events of KOTOR 1 & 2, and OT, ca.20 ABY
Characters: Canderous Ordo (Mand’alor the Preserver), Revan, Maximus Ordo (OC) Wren Ordo (OC)
Genre: Character study, drama
Synopsis: Canderous Ordo searches for a purpose following defeat.

Notes: The first 4 drabbles correspond (more or less) to the events of the KOTOR games and comics, but the last drabble takes place in my Marzra-verse, a.k.a. The “Happily Ever After” version of the GFFA, in which Kanan lives, Bo-Katan still leads the Mandalorians, and Sabine marries Maximus Ordo, leader of Clan Ordo and descendant of Canderous, and has two daughters with him.

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta reading

Disaster
Defeat wasn’t the end of the world. Canderous had been defeated before and lived to fight again.

But what the Republic had done went far beyond defeat. The Jedi Revan had killed Mand’alor the Ultimate, stolen his mask and hidden it, preventing the Mandalorians from choosing a new leader.

He'd forced them to destroy their great bes’uliik war droids, the iron beasts who were more than just weapons. They’d been vode; once honored as warriors, they were now so much slag.

Broken and shamed, the Mando’ade— once an unstoppable force— had scattered, a people without direction, without their heritage.

Dar’manda…


Midnight
Alone and adrift, Canderous found himself on Taris, working as an enforcer for the local Exchange boss Davik Kang on Taris. No longer a warrior, now he just kept petty thugs in line for a cut-rate crime lord with an inflated ego. There was no honor in it, and no challenge either.

One dark and restless midnight, Canderous woke from dreams of free-falling into battle on the back of his bes’uliik, and wondered why he’d sold his honor for so little.

It was time to move on— time to reclaim his honor and start acting like a true Mandalorian again.

Horizon
Canderous gazed out across the frozen plains of Rekkiad. Somewhere out there was the tomb of an ancient Sith lord, where the Mand’alor’s mask was hidden. The man who was leading him there was Revan— Republic Commander, Jedi, Sith— once his greatest foe, now his truest vode.

Stripped of his memories, reduced to an ordinary soldier, Revan had given Canderous a purpose fighting the Sith who’d manipulated the Mandalorians and the Jedi into their disastrous war.

Now he promised to help Canderous achieve a greater challenge— to bring the clans together again and restore their heritage of honor and glory.


Endeavor
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Revan asked.

The mask of the Mand’alor was heavier than Canderous had expected, but, then, it bore the weight of his people’s past— and their future. Was he worthy of it? Was he worthy to lead? With the Ka’ra’s favor he might be, but Canderous knew for certain he’d be unworthy not to try. “Someone has to reunite the clans, might as well be me.”

Revan laughed. “You always said to call you if I needed something done right.” He struck his fist against his chest in the Mandalorian salute. “Oya, Mand’alor.”


Inheritance
“This is our legacy,” Maximus Ordo told his daughters as they stood in front of Canderous Ordo’s beskar’gam where it hung guarding the entrance to their stronghold. “We rally to our Mand’alor, and we defend our clan, yes, but family is more than blood. We are all Mando’ade, no matter our clan.”

“Even Clan Saxon?” Wren asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Even them, ad’ika. We may not like them and they may not like us, but one thing we can learn from Canderous is that we are strongest when the clans stand together. We are vode an, brothers and sisters all.”

Notes:
Mand’alor the Ultimate
Mand’alor: “sole ruler”, leader of the Mandalorians. Sometimes written as Mandalore, but I’ve chosen the Mando’a spelling.
Bes’uliik: “iron beast”, basilisk war droid, a semi-sentient combat droid used by the Mandalorians ca. 40000 BBY. They came to be valued as animal-like companions
Dar’manda: one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul.
Mando’ade: Children of Mandalore, Mandalorians.
Oya: literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.
Ad’ika: little one, child.
Vode an: brothers and sisters all. The word vod (sibling, comrade) is gender neutral, as are most Mandalorian nouns.

 

This is great; drabbles about the beloved characters Revan and Canderous Ordo in KotOR who I loved to play in the game. And having a legacy in Maximus Ordo.

 

Excellent how the honor and loyalty is the true legacy/inheritance.

 

That's an inheritance worth keeping. Excellent drabbles, and looking forward to whatever you have to share next!

 

Thank you! KOTOR is my favorite SW game, mostly because of the great characters. Canderous turns out to be a steadfast ally to Revan (even though he spends much of the game urging Revan to choose violence ) and his clan was a natural choice when I needed one for my OC Mandos.

I really enjoy exploring that aspect of Mando culture. So much of the time Mandos are just portrayed as sort of bloodthirsty thugs who just want to fight and blow stuff up, but family and honor are cornerstones of their beliefs. Glad you enjoyed the drabbles!

It really struck me writing these drabbles how much Canderous and Revan have in common. They both have lost key parts of their themselves. Both sides, Jedi and Mandalorian, were manipulated by the Sith into fighting a war whose real purpose was to break down the Republic, the Jedi, and anyone who might stand against the Sith. And they are both warriors with strong senses of honor (even though that passion drives them to do questionable things at times). That recognition lets them overcome any enmity and become vode in the truest sense.

Well, thank you : I hope that Canderous would be proud of his descendants. Mandalorians as a whole have changed a lot since his time, but Max and his family are committed to carrying on what he began.

It is indeed. Canderous's beskar'gam may be a family treasure, but it's his legacy and his honor that are Max, Wren and Bellona's greatest inheritance. Thank you!

 

Week 4

Title: Born in Fire
Characters: A Mandalorian helmet
Genre: Introspection (inasmuch as an inanimate object can introspect)
Timeframe: indefinite
Synopsis: A beskar helmet reflects on its history.

Thanks as always to @Findswoman for beta-reading.
-------

I am called by many names— beskar, Mandalorian iron, blood steel.

I was born in fire, in the swirling remains of the supernova that collapsed and congealed into the planet Mandalore. I am of Mandalore, and I am Mandalore. I existed before the arrival of the Taung warriors who mined the planet and pulled me from my slumber in the planetary crust, whose metalsmiths changed me from raw ore to steel— heated and shaped, reborn in the fires of the Great Forge into what I am now, a warrior’s helm.

I have been worn by Mando’ade of all species— Taung, Human and others— from a hundred different clans, some of which remain and some that have been lost to time. With my bearers, I have fought a thousand thousand battles: for conquest and for survival, for revenge and for honor, for glory and for love. I have been slammed in kov’nyne violent enough to break my bearer’s nose and tapped helmet-to-helmet as gently as a kiss. I have known triumph and betrayal; I have felt my bearers’ lives ebb from them.

With my bearers, I have lived a thousand lives, and I have been reborn in fire a thousand times, in the Great Forge on Mandalore and countless lesser forges around the Galaxy, reshaped, renewed, but always the same.

Because beskar never dies, it only changes. It is the blood of Mandalore and the soul of the Mando’ade. As long as beskar remains, so do they.

Notes:
Taung: a warlike humanoid species (now extinct) who were the progenitors of the Mandalorian culture.
Kov’nyn: “head strike”, a helmeted head-butt used in combat.