Muur’F’laar - Part 2 - Legacy

"We have just the glorious dead—and the soon-to-be glorious dead. I'm one of the latter." ―Rohlan Dyre

----

Mrrowl sat on the floor of a condominium in the southern sector of Caross. The eight year old cub continued to ponder the new reality that had been laid upon his shoulders: his father would not be coming home, today, or ever.

Dappled light played across the living room floor in front of him as the late day sun did little to dispel his deep sadness. A small toy model of the M’rruuv Lrowwl lay at his feet, and he regarded it with an intense longing, as if willing everything to snap back to normal.

The door chime sounded throughout the apartment, and Pruuna, Mrrowl’s mother, brushed past him to answer it, her magnification glasses still perched above her eyes on her forehead. Mrrowl’s nose wrinkled a little at the smell of new plastic, hot solder and singed electronics that followed in her wake. Since word came of the loss of her husband, S’ruul, a few days earlier, Pruuna had begun working overtime creating and improving the logic circuits coveted by offworlders for their use in astromech droids. While her absorption in her work did little to comfort her cub, having no credits to put food on the table would definitely not be a welcome development.

Pruuna sighed inwardly as she ineffectually attempted to smooth her orange fur into something approaching presentable; that darned black fur in her stripes just never quite seemed manageable when she was short on time to primp. The inward sigh escaped in a whoosh of breath when she noticed the identity of their visitor on the small screen to the left of the door.

Shaking her head, Pruuna activated the door, which opened to reveal a tall Togorian with markings quite similar to her late husband and cub. Murrv was S’ruul’s brother by blood, as well as by clan. A heavy scar ran across his face, received in reward for his participation in a counter raid against a Sith slaver ship, and his fur was marred in many other places, almost a road map of past victories, and a few defeats.

“Murrv, “ she began as her eyes narrowed and her ears pricked forward in agitation, “I thought I told you he was not going.”

Murrv’s paws rose as if defending against an attack. “Pruuna, I know you never totally approved of your mate’s activities, though they seem to have set you up reasonably well, but the boy deserves to see this, to receive the closure the ceremony will bring.”

“I’ll not lose him to the F’laarians as well Murrv! I couldn’t bear it!”

Pruuna’s eyes welled up and she half turned, only to feel a pressure as Mrrowl hugged her leg. As she looked down, her eyes met Mrrowl’s, and her tears flowed freely as she saw so much of her mate in his face.

“Pruuna, please. It is our way, and in time, may be Mrrowl’s way as well. Our family’s history has been guided and shaped by Muur’F’laar for centuries, and to deny that heritage to your son would be sacriligious. In fact, Togoria itself would not be here were it not for Muur’F’laar, and the F’laarian Clan. You owe it to our people to ensure that Mrrowl is provided every opportunity to serve his people and planet.”

Pruuna’s ears sagged as her face fell. “Fine. For the sake of the family, he can go. Promise me you’ll allow him to return here prior to beginning training, if that is the decision of the Clan Leaders.”

“Of course, “ Murrv replied, “he is still too young, you’ll have time with him yet.”

Reaching down, Murrv took Mrrowl’s paw, and led him out to the waiting speeder.

-----

The bonfire’s crackling boomed across the meadow, its light refracting off of the eyes of the various massive cats who had gathered. As the flames danced, more Togorians ghosted from the shadows of the trees in the surrounding forest. Jade and sapphire eyes shone in the flickering brightness as the keening sounds of the F’laarian Battle songs rose into the night.

They had come in droves from clearings and forested glades across the planet to pitch their tents together in brotherhood. Come to celebrate death, to celebrate life, and most of all to celebrate the newly founded legacy of their bretheren lost in honorable battle between the Privateer M’rruuv Lrowwl and those that confronted and stopped her from enriching her Clan and her People.

Most of the crowd were male. While there were a few females that were accepted into the F’laarian Clan, they were not the soft or frilly type - most were just as hard, if not harder, than their male clan mates. While those mated to F’laarian Clan members understood (or at best, tolerated) the quest for battle, blood, and victory through skill at arms, and certainly benefited from those pursuits, those methods of conquest no longer excited female Togorians. The males filled the role of the hunter, wandering the planet and the stars in search of a lost heritage, while the females were content to expand their wealth and prestige in the cities of Togoria through the creation of their electronic gadgets and droids.

In memory of the glorious fallen, the Clan sang and danced the stories of their dead brethren. The tales of their conquests and victories were repeated, reinforcing the oral history of the Clan, and new stories of the recent battle were committed to memory by all present for veneration throughout all time.

Sitting on a log, watching the warriors dance, Mrrowl was startled as a large paw clapped down on his shoulder. “Your father was a great warrior, cub. I’ll stand for you should you want to gain entrance into the Academy.”

Nodding mutely, Mrrowl looked up at a scarred F’laarian, who gave him a slightly drunken grin and lurched off into the crowd.

Murrv sat down next to Mrrowl and nodded in the direction the warrior had gone. “That was Elder Rurrv, Mrrowl. His word, plus your father’s deeds, will virtually guarantee you a spot at the Academy.”

Mrrowl turned to face Muurv, his ears back. “All these people are here for papa?” he asked, with a slight tremor in his voice.

“They are lad, as well as the crew of his ship. Surely he taught you about the glory of battle, and his role in the defense of our people and ways?”

“He told me stories sometimes, but mama would get mad...” Mrrowl trailed off.

Murrv smiled gently, “While the women may lead the planet, we defend it. Honor your mother, and listen to what she has to say, but always remember, it is our might as a people, and more importantly as a Clan, that keep Togoria free. Great warriors such as your father and his crew are the spear that backs the words of the Matriarchs, the spear which wards off those that would harm our people. One day soon, you’ll have an opportunity to train to join us. I hope that you’ll seize that opportunity lad.”

Nodding his head, Mrrowl’s attention turned back to the lines of warriors starting a spear dance near the fire as Murrv smiled inwardly at the seeds he had planted. This cub was destined for great things, and as he had promised S’ruul so many years ago, Murrv would guide him towards the true path of honor.