///New Entry/// - 186
.......... Access Granted
A blue tinged static fills the screen, momentarily blocking any image that might possibly be seen as the recording flickers on. A faint humming is heard, the sound somewhat gravely and low and coming from somewhere not directly near the recording. Finally after several long moments of just humming, the screen fades from static to an actual image, that of a small forge. Scattered about the brilliantly glowing fire are many miscellaneous tools and scraps, clearly signs of someone having recently been at work. A large shadow fills the screen, entirely blocking off the wavering fire. "Alrigh'... Let's see 'ere..." The voice is deep semi-distorted by the recording. "Di'kutla kebise! I jus' kriffin' worked this ou' too." The shadow turns towards the camera, revealing a massive man, his red-brown hair in a loose ponytail that drapes casually over his shoulder. His facial structure is somewhere between squared and triangular, a full beard covering most of its surface along with many scars and two bright silver eyes that brightly pop out of his otherwise survivalist appearance.
"Y'know, s'been a good long time since I've done one o' these. Can tell ya they 'aven' been on m'mind much... No' really a lo' I've wanted t'talk abou'..." A long sigh shortly follows and the man shakes his head. "It's been a rough few months, I can say tha' much. M'life 'as unexpectedly an' drastically changed. I've go' work, aye, bu' tha'a bou' all I've go' goin' fer me..." The man reaches a hand up as he leans back on the nearby anvil, thoughtfully rubbing his bearded chin. "I won' ge' into all tha' osik an' it's better I don'. Jus' been.. rough, y'know? No' sure wha' t'do with m'self an' no' sure wha' I should be doin'." Silver eyes flick from the recording towards a set of armor neatly piled on the ground, a domed helmet with a T-shaped visor the most prominent piece in the stack. "Guess I've still go' tha'... I'll always 'ave tha'. Joined m'clan up with a newly formed 'Ouse... Still no' sure 'ow I personally feel abou' it, I don' ge' along with mos' folks in it an' mos' o' them 'ate m'guts fer one reason or another." A red brow perks while the man looks back into the camera. "Kriff 'em though, eh? I trus'... Very few ou' o' the group, bu' with time, we'll see 'ow tha' changes." The man lets out a very deep laugh and shakes his head. "It's fer the bettermen' o' our culture though, an' I'm no' one t'shy away from wha' tha' means. Eh, sure, m'clan may 'ave gotten soft through the years, bu' tha' doesn' mean we ain' still somethin' t'be reckoned with... Or tha' we've forgotten wha' it means t'be Mando'ade. Kriff, we've been 'round fer thousands o' kriffin' years."
The large man rubs the side of his face with the palm of his right hand, letting out another deep sigh. "Ceta, I'm ramblin' as usual. I don' 'ave a lo' o' folks I can really jus'.. Vent to anymore, so this works." He lightly clicks the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gives the small room a glance over. "Mos' I can do righ' now, is work on betterin' m'self.. As a father, as a person, as a Mandalorian, an' as a leader.. 'Cause kriff, I ain' much o' any o' those." Somewhere off camera several voices can be heard, each one muttering in a gutteral language. "Fierfek, sounds like I'm abou' t'ave company... Next time, eh?" He gives a very small smile and pushes off the anvil, twisting his lips to the side as he approaches and leans down infront of the recording and flicks it off.
Write in your Journal. These are IC for the writer, but OOC information for the reader. Share your personal adventures with others. Give them a peek inside the character they might not otherwise get to see.
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