Topic: The Goran Chronicles--of Ore and Gore
Well, this is my first attempt at a completely original fanfic. It uses my custom Mandalorian, Kal Goran. The reason for his name will become obvious in the story, maybe faster for you Mando'a buffs (which I'm not, I'm afraid I resorted to the dictionary). The name of the Story will also become plain with time.
Feedback is appreciated by everyone.
Prologue: The Warriors Beginning
Kal Goran was standing outside his familyÃ¢Â€Â™s home, thinking. It was late, several hours after dinner. He wore only a tunic, for he had no need of armor on a peacetime Mandalore. Though thatÃ¢Â€Â™s not entirely true, he thought. Mandalorians were never at peace.
He stared out at his surroundings. It was an old farmhouse, one that his grandfather had built himself years before. There was no farm now, but there was a barn for animals, which doubled as a private sparring ring.
A short distance away was another building, whose large chimney was belching dark smoke. Kal smiled to himself. His father must be forging again.
It was their family tradeÃ¢Â€Â”had been, for as long as anyone could remember. Centuries ago, some ancestor had taken up the trade, and passed his knowledge from father to sonÃ¢Â€Â”even daughter, occasionally. He had taken the name tooÃ¢Â€Â”Goran was roughly translated as Smith in Basic.
It was a good tradeÃ¢Â€Â”even when Mandalorians had been scattered far and wide, and could scarcely call themselves a culture anymore, people still wanted weapons and armor, even if it was purely ceremonial. Many of his ancestors had plied their trade in the service of rich aruetii who desired Ã¢Â€ÂœauthenticsÃ¢Â€Â for decoration in his mansion. Even a few minor Moffs had desired more exotic decorations for their luxurious palaces.
But in recent years, that had all changed. MandÃ¢Â€Â™alor Fett had completed the task that Fenn Shysa had startedÃ¢Â€Â”the reunification of Mandalorians and their society, and their return to the strength and glory not known since the days of Jaster Mereel and Jango Fett. Now, Mandalore was populated by several million, even after the VongÃ¢Â€Â™ese had attacked and slaughtered a million MandoÃ¢Â€Â™ade. More were returning, and many needed weapons and armor, and the skill of the Goran family was still remembered by many.
Kal had spent many hours at the forge, crafting weapons and armor for various warriors. He was young, but had started far younger, having made his first blade at seven years old. He had crafted his beskad at fourteen and his current armor at sixteen. For the last two years, word of his skill had spread, and he had been commissioned for various pieces several times. But he had never been able to test his own skills as a warrior. He was eighteen years old. He knew it was time. Past time, really.
He started walking towards the forge. His father, Orar, was just pulling a midsized blade out of the bellows, hammering it into shape with one of his smaller hammers. It was already close to completion, and the hammer only had to fall once more, and Orar plunged the blade into the waiting barrel of water. It hissed shrilly and let off steam, and Orar pulled it out, set it down, and looked up.
Ã¢Â€ÂœKal! IÃ¢Â€Â™m glad youÃ¢Â€Â™re here.Ã¢Â€Â He held up the completed blade. Ã¢Â€ÂœWhat do you think? Blades like this are getting more popular, lately.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœItÃ¢Â€Â™s an excellent blade. Should serve its master very well.Ã¢Â€Â Kal took a breath. Ã¢Â€ÂœBuir, I need to talk to you.Ã¢Â€Â
Orar nodded. Ã¢Â€ÂœI know.Ã¢Â€Â
KalÃ¢Â€Â™s head jerked back slightly with surprise. Ã¢Â€ÂœYou do?Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœYes. IÃ¢Â€Â™ve known this would be coming for some time. YouÃ¢Â€Â™re a Mandalorian, and youÃ¢Â€Â™re a GoranÃ¢Â€Â”being a warrior is in your blood. And youÃ¢Â€Â™re of ageÃ¢Â€Â”its time you proved yourself. ThatÃ¢Â€Â™s what you wanted to say, am I right?Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœWellÃ¢Â€Â¦yeah. I canÃ¢Â€Â™t call myself a man until IÃ¢Â€Â™ve proved it to myself, and that means fighting, even if itÃ¢Â€Â™s just bounty hunter work. IÃ¢Â€Â™ve got my training and instincts, weapons and armor, all I really need is experience and a--Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœÃ¢Â€Â”ship. I knew youÃ¢Â€Â™d need that, and IÃ¢Â€Â™ve got that covered for you. IÃ¢Â€Â™m giving you my ship.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœTraÃ¢Â€Â™kad? But itÃ¢Â€Â™s yoursÃ¢Â€Â¦.I couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t take it from you.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœKal, IÃ¢Â€Â™m an older man nowÃ¢Â€Â”I wonÃ¢Â€Â™t need it again. The rest of my life will be forging weapons and armor for others. I will fight if my Mandalore calls me, but if not, then I will stay here and do what I do best. I was always a better smith than a warrior. But youÃ¢Â€Â”youÃ¢Â€Â™re different. You are an exceptional smith, like all of our family. But you are also a born warrior, and thatÃ¢Â€Â™s what separates you from me. ThatÃ¢Â€Â™s IÃ¢Â€Â™m giving you TraÃ¢Â€Â™kad.Ã¢Â€Â Orar took off his apron and hung it on a peg.
Ã¢Â€ÂœBut thatÃ¢Â€Â™s not all IÃ¢Â€Â™m giving you. As you can imagine, IÃ¢Â€Â™ve made a lot of money from my tradeÃ¢Â€Â”in your few years, youÃ¢Â€Â™ve made a few credits of your own. Some IÃ¢Â€Â™ve spent a few on upgrades for TraÃ¢Â€Â™kad, but I still have most of it saved up, in various banks on Aargua and Mygeeto. I used some of it on a BesÃ¢Â€Â™uliik.Ã¢Â€Â
This time, Kal was rendered speechless. Ã¢Â€ÂœFatherÃ¢Â€Â¦I canÃ¢Â€Â™t take it. ThatÃ¢Â€Â™s far too much.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœNo, its not. Its what you deserve. And youÃ¢Â€Â™ll probably need it. ItÃ¢Â€Â™ll fit in TraÃ¢Â€Â™kad, for when you need more maneuverability.Ã¢Â€Â
Ã¢Â€ÂœIn that caseÃ¢Â€Â”thank you. IÃ¢Â€Â™ll use it well, father.Ã¢Â€Â He stepped forward, but Orar stopped him. Ã¢Â€ÂœNot yet, son. ThereÃ¢Â€Â™s one last gift.Ã¢Â€Â
Kal stopped, confused. What else could his father possibly have for him?
Ã¢Â€ÂœIts nothing as flashy as the first two, so donÃ¢Â€Â™t be too expectant. He stepped over to his workstation, picking up a small blade. Ã¢Â€ÂœI made this for youÃ¢Â€Â”a geÃ¢Â€Â™kal. Its an armpit knifeÃ¢Â€Â”you never know when it might come in handy.Ã¢Â€Â He handed it to Kal. Ã¢Â€Âœ
Kal couldnÃ¢Â€Â™t say anything for a moment. This was the best gift his father could have given him. He stepped forward and embraced his father. Ã¢Â€ÂœIÃ¢Â€Â™ll treasure it.Ã¢Â€Â