#Kalevala knights

[autisticwriterblog]

The Kalevala Knights workshop.

[koskela-knights]

Medieval Kalevala Knights AU

Saga is the Princess/Queen to be, protected by the Knights.

[entropicquilibriumofchaos]

Fourth Annual Cauldron Lake Ice Hockey Tournament

In the thrilling conclusion to the Fourth Annual Cauldron Lake Ice Hockey Tournament, (sponsored by Coffee World and the Bright Falls Council for Outdoor Recreation), the Oh Deer Diner Deer, led by team captain Rose "the Brute" Marigold, face the reigning champions, the Kalevala Knights, led by team captain Ilmo "the Grinder" Koskela. Which team will rise to the occasion and which will sink beneath the black water of Cauldron Lake?

Read it on ao3

“Alright team!” Ilmo shouted over the rumble of idle chatter. 

All of the heads turned to him as he stood in the doorway of the heating tent. His stance commanded attention; legs spread to keep his balance on the skates on his feet and his arm out to the side, holding an old hockey stick that looked like it had seen better days. He had a look of steely confidence that seemed at home on his features. 

“Last game of the night, last game of the tournament,” he started, walking into the tent to conserve heat. “It's us versus the Oh Deer Diner Deer once again.”

A quiet murmur filled the tent as the team made their comments about their rivals. Ilmo put a hand up, silencing them effectively.

“You may have heard that Bright Falls has a goalie that has been dominating this year. The rumors are true, the new Sheriff, Tim Breaker, is helping out the Deer this year. And yes, he played semi-professional hockey. But, he’s got nothing on Jaakko.”

A few cheers sounded and Jaakko was shoved from side to side in his goalie gear. A small smile appeared on his face as he pushed his teammates back playfully.

“Okay starting line up time:” Ilmo announced, and all the heads popped up. “Jones, ya ready?”

A middle-aged man with grizzled features nodded sharply.

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” Ilmo shouted, and the team gave a grunt. “Charlie, ya ready?”

Among the older denizens of Watery, a teenaged boy popped his head up. The black and yellow hockey gear he sported seemed to almost drowned him. Nonetheless he raised a fist, “Down with the Deer!”

The team cheered in agreement.

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” Ilmo repeated. “WIlliams, ya ready?”

Another player grunted, leading the team in cheers. 

“Good, ‘cause you’re going!” he said, before locking eyes with his brother. The two of them stared each other down with fire in their eyes before Ilmo spoke up. “Jaakko, ya ready?”

“You know it, brother,” he replied, “Let’s kick some Bright Falls ass, boys.”

Ilmo belted out one last “Good, ‘cause you’re going!” and the tent erupted into shouts as the team stood up and donned the rest of their gear. 

Meeting in the middle of the tent, over the propane heater, all of the team members put their hands in a circle. 

“Knights on three,” Ilmo instructed, “Yksi, kaksi, kolme:”

The team shouted, “Knights!” in unison before filing out of the tent.

Ilmo made his way to the back of the tent to his brother, who was buckling his mask to his helmet. Jaakko smiled at his brother and grabbed the back of his head and brought their helmets together with an audible clash.

“Go get ‘em, veli.” Jaakko encouraged, making Ilmo smile widely.

The brothers tottered on their skates out of the heated tent and onto the ice of Cauldron Lake. A good-sized rink had been cleared of snow and benches had been hauled out for spectators to watch. Under a tent on the opposite side of the rink, a table with chairs behind and on either side served as the penalty boxes and score-keeper’s table. Behind the table, in a heavy fur lined coat was Ahti, nursing a coffee and leaning against a shovel. Next to him was Rose Marigold, teetering back and forth on her skates. Her team was warming up on the ice as the Knights joined on the opposite side.

Jaakko broke from Ilmo and joined the rest of the team and the captain skated over to the tent. He came to an abrupt stop in front of Rose, sending a flurry of snow at her calves. She just rolled her eyes. 

Ahti just chuckled and shook his head. “Pluck your chickens elsewhere, lapset. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last year, ei?”

Last year’s tournament flashed vividly in Ilmo’s mind. His back still hurt from where Rose had body checked him hard enough to send him into the snowbank. But getting her back with a slapshot between her skates had been payback enough. However, the two didn’t speak for a month afterwards.

“The Deer are committed to sportsmanlike conduct this year, Ahti. No trouble from us.” Rose boasted, leaning against her hockey stick. 

Ilmo rolled his eyes. “Knights are known for their chivalry, you know.”

Rose scowled. “Oh shove your chivalry up your ass, Koskela,” she mocked.

Ahti laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “Ah, ten for the attempt.”

The two players shoved off of the ice towards their respective teams. It was sure to be a close game.

[shittybundaskenyer]

when the writer is in doubt, my turn to come out (scratch out)

[autumn0689]

Alan Wake 2 except every time Alan puts on a new outfit Elbow Patches just manifest onto the outfit

[tanis-drawings-2point0]

back when i first played alwake 2 ive always found the (potential) relationship between these two so interesting, and so bittersweet!

ilmo always sounded so fond when talking to her, and between that, the gifted & signed pun book on "her" room, and the implication that he at least considered her close enough to maybe someday include her on the cult (if my reading of "she's one of us, Jaakko" while showing the back of the Kalevala Knights jacket is correct), not to mention the Concept of an agent and the cult leader she's chasing after being close and jokesters together in another universe... it makes for a compelling doomed romance imo u_u

[dekaja]

kalevala knights

[yellowymellon]

i think it's high time hsr introduces another knight of beauty because argenti is carrying this knight order too much ( Galahad or Pomaine plzplzplz)

they using argenti so much that it doesnt even make sense TT

(spoilers for yunli quest)

Iirc the man from kalevala said his remote planet is far from pier point and it'd take some time to get there. EXPLAIN HOW argenti went from penacony to kalevala and THEN returned to the xianzhou all in the span of like, a week. knowing that he usually stops to save people and that he has a normal spaceship unlike the crew, who have an aeon made train that can wrap in space. Argenti is such a convenient character...

I love argenti but he deserves a proper event like the ghostly groove or events like those cuz, WDYM we are slowly getting closer to SW with her minor roles in random events but not him (i still like the development with SW tho)

[impossibleprincess35]

The Echo and the Stain | ch 30

[Excerpt:]

Satine stepped forward, angrily crossing her arms, and she glared down at the pile of iron skin that was laid out before her. The beskar had a teal patina from ages of wear, and golden lilies had been soldered into the plates to honor the title she had been given as a child: The Lily of Mandalore. With a dismissive nod in the direction of her armor, she remarked, “I gave no permission for my family’s vault to be entered.”

Almec gave her a simpering look of pity and opened his arms as he turned to take in the pile of beskar for himself. “Apologies, Your Grace, but a last minute stipulation was added on behalf of the other parties. Leaders are expected to dress in armor-”

She interrupted him viciously, “A request so superfluous on a planet where violence is forbidden, it had to have come from the very brightest of them all. Count Jorir Wren, I presume?” Her eyebrow arched as she stared at Almec and dared him to offer some defense of the man who had tried to have her killed on the transport out of Dast Var.

Behind her, the Jedi Knights of the Republic stirred timidly.

Qui-Gon frowned, feeling the anger that flowed through Satine in the Force. The shock that she had initially felt upon entering the parlor had quickly subsided and turned into rage, though she bore the pain of betrayal somewhere in her mind. In all of the research he and Obi-Wan had done to prepare for meeting her, not once had he ever seen evidence of the Duchess of Kalevala in traditional Mandalorian armor; and it was clear to him that the presence of the beskar’gam had thrown her for a loop.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Almec crooned as he stepped towards her and his voice softened. “Let us not begin with short tempers and bad intentions. Your terms were agreed upon by all in attendance, and I’ll admit, they were not thrilled about your hired help.”

Obi-Wan scowled when Almec shot him a look of disapproval over Satine’s shoulder. The man seemed to dislike him for no reason; or maybe, the padawan thought, being a Jedi was reason enough for him.

Satine glared into the violet eyes of her New Mandalorian co-counsel and sneered, “You are not of House Kryze. You had no right to enter the vault without my permission. A violation of this kind makes me question your morality.”

Almec brushed her off with a flippant huff and then shot back, his tone crude but his voice low, “Oh, give it a rest. I’m a politician, not a deity. If you want to jeopardize all of the work we have done to bring peace to Mandalore because you don’t want to play dress up for a few hours, then maybe there is reason to give credence to the claims they make about you.”

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she fumed quietly, “Bearing the armor of my lineage is not dress up. It is a sacred rite. This is wrong, and it is nothing more than the Traditional Mandalorians seeing what they can demand that you will give under the pretense of cooperation.”

“So you intend to not wear it?” Almec asked her sharply.

Satine did not answer right away. The situation that she faced felt like a double-edged beskad, with no outcome preferable to the other.

--

Chapter 30 is up.

OMG, holy hell, I updated. :D

[clowncowclownin]

With Artfight upon us, I'm gonna post the refs I've done in preparation

First up is my Alan Wake and Remedyverse Oc Rainier! He's a mechanic and member of the Kalevala Knights biker "gang" from Alan Wake 2🌲🌲🌲

[the-hidden-writer]

A Piece of True Fiction: Chapter 4

An Alan Wake 2 fic. Spoilers for Alan Wake 2!

Summary: Aleksi Kesä manages to slip out of the spiral and film he was trapped in.

Saga Anderson, caught in the middle of Wake's horror story, finds a man that looks identical to her partner in the middle of the woods. He's lost, confused, and only seems to speak Finnish. Saga has to try and uncover the truth as well as trying to save her family. Where did he come from? How did he get here?

And where's her Casey?

Chapter Summary: Saga defends Kesä from the Taken. Warnings: blood/injury Words: 2,760 AO3 Link: [Here!] [First part] [Previous part] [Next part]

A Piece of True Fiction

Chapter 4: Chosen One

“T̸̢͖́̕h̷̜͍͋͝i̵̧̥͐s̶̛̗̜̕ ̴͕̀̅î̴͕͝s̸͖͓͒ ̵͈̍̍t̶̞͌h̸̨͙͊̋ę̷̬̾ ̴̛̼͓̓r̷̳͛i̵̮͎͐ṫ̷͍ǔ̵̝̤å̶͔͛l̷̞̿́ ̷̩͎͊̾t̴͔͙͋̓o̴̮͈̐͊ ̴̡̛̞̈́l̴͔͒͛ẹ̸͂ȃ̶͓̦d̵͍́ ̸̨̠͐͘y̸͙̭͝ơ̸̱̄ü̵̡̋ ̴͙͊͗o̴͔̭̿n̴̢͚̿!̶̯͐͜͠“

Saga acts instantly. She directs her flashlight at the cultist Taken the moment it’s clearly in view and quickly empties a round into it, not giving it the chance to take a single step in her direction. It staggers to the ground and she doesn’t waste a second before reloading her gun.

She waits for any sign of further movement, of which there aren’t any. She breathes during the brief moment of respite that’s doomed to end sooner than later.

Cautiously, she spins around, eyes scanning the surroundings for more Taken. She knows she’d heard a second one and wasn’t planning to let Kesä out until it’s down.

Just as predicted, it isn’t long before she hears the slosh of feet trudging through wet leaves coming from somewhere on the other side of the gift shop.

A deep, distorted voice soon follows.

“T̸͂͜h̴͈̎ë̸̜́ ̸̂͜r̸̻͑i̵̝̇t̵̰̽u̶̻͂ä̶͈́l̷̩͗.̵͉͐.̴̰̒.̷̈́ͅ”

Saga darts around the circular building, gun raised. Her thumb hovers over the button to increase her flashlight’s power, and she forces herself to set aside the worry that it’s due to run out soon. As long as she can take down this other Taken, she would be able to manage. There are more batteries in the jacket pocket which she can access once the danger’s dealt with.

Reaching the other side, she catches sight of the second Taken. Not a cultist this time but, from the look of their jacket through the distorted darkness, a member of the Kalevala Knights. They don’t notice her immediately as they continue to slowly stalk in the other direction around the shop, back toward where Saga had just come from.

Back toward the entrance.

Not a chance.

“Hey! Over here!” She shouts, waving the beam of light over the Knight’s face in an attempt to divert its attention.

They stumble as they’re illuminated and turn to face her. Saga readies herself to increase flashlight power, trigger finger equally prepared, but the Knight has already started to move back on their original path.

“A̶̡̍ ̵̤̋̚s̴͔̔͌a̶̩͕̍c̵̡̽̋r̷͈͌̌i̶̛̙͑f̷̈́ͅi̵̬̊̆c̷̩͉̔e̴͈̓ ̴̰͕̾f̷͉͉̎ŏ̷͔̕͜r̴̫̅ ̵͓̜͐t̶̳͙́͠h̸̬͚̔̓ȩ̴͎̐ ̷̫̒m̷̺̐a̵̗̖̾̉s̶̰̑t̵̻̩̉e̵̠͙͝r̴͖̠̀̿.̵̣̊.̶̜̦̂͠.̵̨͔̓̓”

There’s a second of confusion at the distraction not being effective before Saga boosts the flashlight and unloads the second round into this Taken’s head. Its head is blown off completely, sending blood spraying onto the leaves behind, as well as the remains of the head that fall to the side of the corpse like its own sick little attraction in a theme park that wasn’t that freakish, but also wasn’t far off.

Since Saga had been expecting the light to go out, it doesn’t surprise her when her flashlight flickers into darkness not long after the sound of the shots stop resounding through the quiet area.

She releases the breath she’d been holding and walks over to examine the body. The lack of head makes it impossible to discern any noticeable features, and they don’t seem to have much on them either, apart from the jacket.

It occurs to her that this jacket would probably be a better fit for Kesä than her FBI one, which she’s beginning to realize she really does need back. Even so, she can’t bring herself to take it from the body. Partially because it’s covered in blood, but also because this person was probably innocent and might have treasured that jacket. She isn’t cruel enough to steal possessions from the possessed.

It’s as she kneels there, catching her breath, that her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of glass smashing.

And then a shout. And then a snarl.

“Shit.” Saga murmurs under her breath as she stands and begins to sprint back around the gift shop. “Shit shit shit shit-”

Another cultist Taken, one she hadn’t heard initially, is making its way toward the gift shop entrance, axe in hand. A second axe lies on the ground by the door, surrounded by shards of glass. The door itself is now missing most of its window.

Saga doesn’t think. On autopilot, she leaps to get between the Taken and the door, simultaneously fumbling to reload her gun. She knows she’s going to struggle to take the thing down with a dead flashlight, but she is not letting it get to Casey- or whoever he thinks he is.

“Stay away!” she asserts, more for her own sake than with any sort of expectation that it will listen. She shoots once into its head.

The Taken is only momentarily hindered.

“Shit.” Saga curses again. This is bad.

She’s forced to look down in order to search her pockets for any sort of light source. There must be something, and as long as she stands in between then nothing can get to…

She looks up. The cultist is gone.

“What..?”

She swiftly turns around to see that it had walked around her to reach the door, totally ignoring her presence. Before Saga has the chance to react, it swings its remaining axe into the door, heavily splintering it. She hears another shout from inside.

Panic starts to grab hold of her. She can’t shoot it from this angle without risking hitting Kesä. She’s running out of options. She needs a light.

The Taken raises the axe again. 

“T̷͚͗h̷̜̓è̷̱ ̸̞̎m̵̥͐a̵̖̾s̵̙̽ẗ̷͓́ẻ̴͕r̶͖̐'̶̞͠s̴͊͜ ̵͙͠ć̸̡h̷̭̎ỏ̵̲s̴̩̃e̸̺͒ǹ̷̲ ̶͎̐ŏ̴̳ṅ̵̦ė̵̙!̶̮̓”

Just as it’s about to swing, it suddenly gets pushed back when something hits it square in the head. That something falls to the ground, revealing itself to be a Coffee World coffee mug.

The cultist is not deterred. It snarls angrily, going in for a third attack at the door. Saga doesn’t give it the chance. Her left hand curls around the miraculous flare she finds at the bottom of her left coat pocket. She activates it, hurls it in the Taken’s direction, and then directs all her energy into charging toward it.

“Get away!”

She forcefully grabs the cultist’s cloak and uses the momentum from her run to knock it to the ground. The contact with its coating of darkness sends a surge of something through her. Something heavy, wet and foreign. Something dark, twisted and cruel. 

It only lasts for a moment, though, because the flare does its job. But her victory doesn’t last long. As it falls, the cultist manages to make one last swing that catches Saga in her upper left arm. She only realizes this once she has repeatedly shot the Taken into silence.

Minutes pass as Saga stands by the door, waiting for the sign of the next Taken. Her chest is heavy and her head is spinning and she can feel the blood oozing out of her arm. The adrenaline keeps the pain from reaching her thoughts.

To her utmost relief, after waiting for a reasonable amount of time, there are no further signs of enemies. The flare fizzles out to leave them in darkness once again.

Okay, Saga thinks to herself. New part of the plan: transfer all the ammo into her windbreaker.

She opens the gift shop door, nervously calling out. “Aleksi?”

From what little light filters through inside, she spots him pressed against the back wall of the gift shop, armed with another coffee mug in each hand. He drops them once he realizes it’s her.

Even through darkness, the fear and confusion is evident on his face. "...Mitä helvetin mörköjä nuo oli?"

Saga opens her mouth to respond, but promptly closes it again. Seeing Kesä safe and unharmed starts to make the adrenaline fade from her veins, leaving a sharp pain in her arm in its wake. She starts to feel light-headed.

“Saga?”

She must have been swaying on her feet because, in a flash, Aleksi is by her side and supporting her via her other arm.

“Are you okay?” "Onko kaikki hyvin?" they ask simultaneously.

"Odota. Älä liiku." Says Kesä, his tone indicating that it’s an instruction with no room for debate.

Saga tries to process what he meant while he backs away. However much she tries to focus on Kesä and to form a plan, her thoughts involuntarily drift back to the pain. She carefully uses her right hand to inspect the wound. The axe had sliced through her windbreaker, presumably through her sweater too. Fuck. She’d have to mend that.

Aleksi promptly returns in front of her. He’d managed to find a wooden stool from somewhere. He sets it down, creating a sickening crunch of glass below.

He motions toward the seat. “Istu.”

Now that she can understand. She gratefully sits on it and watches as he scurries behind the counter and bends down. She can hear him rifling through objects.

“Liippasi ihan liian läheltä,” he says. “Pitikö sitä oikein mennä hengellään leikkimään?!” His tone is clearly one of anger, and Saga can’t help but flinch at his raised voice. She instinctively draws back a little, even as he pulls out the first aid kit he finds and walks back toward her.

He opens the box and inspects its contents. Realizing his intention of helping her, Saga does her best to remove the windbreaker and pull her now blood-soaked sweater sleeve to below her shoulder.

There’s no hesitation on her part to do so. She feels comfortable around Casey and he’s seen her look worse. Still, she catches the flash of embarrassment that shoots across his face. He’d always secretly been a gentleman at heart.

She gently prods the wound with the fingers of her other hand. Luckily, it doesn’t seem deep, and is only a few inches long. The Taken must have just clipped her on the way down. It shouldn’t need stitches, she thinks, as she touches the bruised surrounding skin while failing to suppress a hiss of discomfort.

The sound makes Kesä look up. In his hands are a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of gauze. He holds them up in offering.

Saga nods appreciatively. “Thanks, but I can-”

She doesn’t get to finish telling him she can clean it herself since, the second she displays some sort of approval, he douses his own dirtied hands in the antiseptic and then separately pours more onto a gauze pad. Losing the energy to fight, Saga lets him begin to clean and dress the wound.

He starts to talk again while working, still angry.

“Ne mielipuolet peuranaamareissa– eivät ne sinusta välitä, minut ne tahtovat hengiltä. Entä jos se hullu olisi osunut sinua kaulaan? Ethän sinä edes tunne minua, ja silti piti päästä leikkimään sankaria. Minut tässä kirottu on, ei sinua.”

As he talks, Saga makes two observations.

The first is that… he doesn’t sound like her Casey? It’s hard to tell without knowing exactly what he’s saying, but the voice does sound different to her, especially now that he’s speaking more forcefully. It lacks the sharp edge she’s used to hearing alongside a sarcastic comment. There’s almost a softer, airier feel to it that she doesn’t recognize. That scares her.

The second observation is a realization that didn’t occur to her immediately, but now she’s certain of it. Although she doesn’t recognize the voice itself, she does recognize the tone he’s using, and while it is definitely angry, she understands that it isn’t truly directed at her.

The reason the tone is familiar to her is because she’s heard it once before, but from her own mouth. She doesn’t need to comprehend the meaning of the words to know they are tainted with a misdirected blame and an undertone of guilt.

“Don’t blame yourself,” she interrupts, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “An axe to the arm is just part of the job.”

He (as expected) doesn’t find her choice of phrase amusing, nor does he react to it in any way as he finishes tightly binding her arm with the gauze. She can hear both of their heavy, shaky breaths mingle in such close proximity to one another. She’s sure he can too. It’s awkward, but only because they’ve run out of words.

It’s endearing. She knows he doesn’t recognize her, and yet he still showed as much concern as Casey normally would. If she takes anything away from this moment, it would be the added strength to her resolve to protect and save him from the story’s twisting of his character.

“I’m fine, Aleksi.” She tries to be reassuring.

She can see the tension start to gradually leave his body. First his strained, angered expression melts away, then his shoulders drop, and lastly his breathing evens out until no trace of his frustration remains.

Icy eyes meet deep brown. So much of what couldn’t be said verbally is conveyed through a look.

“Kiitos... Thank you, Saga.”

That moment is the final chip required to fully shatter the ice between them. If he was suspicious of her intentions before, much of that seemingly dissipates as he surrenders the jacket back to her upon her mimed request. All it took was an axe to the arm. Saga thinks it’s almost poetic in a fucked up way. A twisted mirror of one of the ways she first bonded with Casey.

As well as batteries, a few flares, and the ammo in the jacket pockets, there’s also some painkillers. Saga takes a few (praying that they take effect quickly) before changing the flashlight batteries, standing up, and gesturing to the door.

“Come on, let’s get going. It should be safer now.”

Kesä follows obediently.

She leads him out of the park and through the woods, this time not letting him fall any more than three steps behind. The pain does ease away eventually and it doesn’t take too long before they reach the grassy area she’d parked the car on.

Finally, step one of the makeshift plan was complete.

Leaving Aleksi to stare at the car in some weird form of disbelief that she doesn’t have time to unpack, Saga unlocks the trunk and pulls out one of two small gray bags stored at the very back. After the initial relief of this second bag being in here in the first place, she calls Aleksi over and hands it to him.

He looks confused but trusts her enough to unzip it. He pulls out the uppermost item: a plain white shirt.

Saga gives him the thumbs up. “Go ahead, it’s all yours.”

After a few cases that resulted in ruined clothes, she and Casey had started to keep a spare set each in the car for emergencies. Saga’s pretty sure this counts as an emergency.

Kesä takes out every item individually. Shirt, undershirt, pants, underwear, belt, socks- just the essentials. No shoes, though. Saga makes a mental note to add a pair to the collection for next time.

"Nämähän on minun kokoani." Kesä mumbles to himself as he measures each component against his body. "Mitä helvettiä täällä on meneillään?"

Saga turns to give him the privacy to change while also allowing herself the chance to think things through in her Mind Place. Finding ‘Aleksi Kesä’ adds an entire new train of thought to her case board. There are links to Huotari Well and Watery, and possibly to the Takens’ strange behavior too, but there are too many unanswered questions to discern much else.

As she sees it, there are three options of where to go next. One, she could find a doctor and make sure that Aleksi (and herself) get medical attention. She’d suffered a nasty injury and he’d possibly been submerged in cold water for an extended period of time, let alone the non-impossible chance of brain damage being the cause of his personality shift.

…But something tells her it’s a lot more complicated than that.

Two, she could stop in Watery and find someone to translate for her. The first option of translator that comes to mind is Ilmo, though that idea is quickly dismissed due to current unfortunate circumstances. 

Three, she could drive straight back to Bright Falls Sheriff Station and see if the FBC can help her. Casey had said they deal with unusual cases, right? If this entire situation doesn’t class as unusual, then she doesn’t know what could. Plus, they had Alan there, and she could give him the Clicker and question him on what he did to Logan and Casey once he’s fixed everything.

She takes a quick glance over her shoulder to see Kesä, now in fresh clothes, trying to dry his hair off with his original shirt. The clothes are his, but he looks uncomfortable wearing them.

She decides on option three. The sooner things are back to normal, the better.

Next stop: Bright Falls.

Finnish translations (updated and accurate):

"Mitä helvetin mörköjä nuo oli?" = "What the hell kind of monsters were those?"

"Onko kaikki hyvin?" = "Are you okay?"

"Odota. Älä liiku." = "Wait. Don't move."

"Istu." = "Sit."

“Liippasi ihan liian läheltä." = "That was way too close of a call."

“Pitikö sitä oikein mennä hengellään leikkimään?!” = "Did you have to do something that reckless?"

“Ne mielipuolet peuranaamareissa– eivät ne sinusta välitä, minut ne tahtovat hengiltä." = "Those lunatics in deer mask- they don't care about you, I'm the one they want dead."

"Entä jos se hullu olisi osunut sinua kaulaan?" = "What if that madman had hit you in the neck?"

"Ethän sinä edes tunne minua, ja silti piti päästä leikkimään sankaria." = "You don't even know me, and yet you had to play the hero."

"Minut tässä kirottu on, ei sinua.” = "I'm the one who's cursed here, not you."

"Kiitos." = "Thank you."

"Nämähän on minun kokoani." = "Oh... these are in my size?"

"Mitä helvettiä täällä on meneillään?" = "What the hell is going on here?"

Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated :)

[koskela-knights]

The Boys in the Band

[alexversenaberrie]

This is Hiba’s brother Kanan, another one of my OC Mandalorians you’re free to cosplay or do fan art of. Just like my other OC Mandos.

Name: Kanan Fenn Bridger-Wren

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Year of Birth: 16 ABY

Place of Birth: Knownwrest

Parents: Ezra Bridger (Father) and Sabine Wren (Mother)

Siblings: Hiba (Sister),Minerva (Sister), Eleni (Sister)

House: Kryze

Clan: Wren (Formally of House Viszla but switch affiliation with House Kryze by Countess Sabine Wren, Kanan’s mother, in 10 ABY.)

Titles: Prince of Knownwrest, Ambassador to Navarro, Knight of Kalevala, Captain of “The Ghost”, and commander pilot (During the Age of Resistance).

Appearance:

•6’3

•Light brown Skin (Middle Eastern X East Asian)

•Athletic

•Muscular

•Narrow but round face

•Jet black hair

•Blue eyes

•Shaven

Notable Skills:

•Combat: Considered prodigal in various combatant skills including hand-to-hand combat, light saber wielding, being skilled in the use of Westar 34, 35, and carbine blasters.

•Athleticism: Like the majority of his family clan, Kanan is very athletic as a result of constant training from both of his parents and from Jedi Master Ahsoka Tano.

•Intelligence: Above-average intelligence. Excelled well at both the newly reestablished Royal Academy as a youth and in training with his clan.

•Weapons Expert: Kanan is extremely talented in the field of weaponry. He can build various types of weapons for different variations of combat. They include blasters, pistols, explosives, and sabers.

•Piloting Expert: Due to constant training under General Hera Syndulla, Kanan is an expert pilot who went on to become captain of “The Ghost” during the Age of Resistance, serving both generals Leia Organa and Poe Damermon in all battles against the First Order.

•Gifted Artist: A talented inherited from his mother and maternal grandfather, Kanan is a gifted graffiti artist who is well known for painting other people’s armor with signets, decals and various colors that symbolizes their personal life stories and families histories. He has also painted his own X-Wing ship with different shades of yellow, orange, blue, and purple with imagery that symbolizes his family’s legacy and his own hopes and dreams.

Force Sensitive: Yes, like his parents and older sister. His force sensitivity has given him the ability to read minds, and feelings which allows him to properly judge people and determine if they’re either worthy of the Mandalorian people’s trust or be avoided at all costs.

Additional Information:

•Although he’s the third of four children born to Sabine and Ezra Bridger-Wren, Kanan is a twin to his sister Eleni, who was just four minutes later.

•He’s named after his father’s late friend, master and surrogate father Kanan Jarrus.

•His force sensitivity was discovered by his father not long after his older sister’s. In response, Ezra, along side his longtime friend Ahsoka Tano, decided to train his two force sensitive children to appreciate their abilities and use them for good.

•During his time at the Royal Academy in Sundari, Kanan built a super weapon he named “Carlac” after the snow-bound planet that once served as a temporary camp for Death Watch. The ice berg-shaped weapon, which was built for use by the Resistance, unlike his mother’s “Duchess” weapon, first identifies anyone who is part of the First Order or is a Sith. Then, it beams ice out of its canon, aiming for the target’s chest, causing them become stunned from an internal hypothermic onset. However, the weapon doesn’t kill them but puts into a coma-like sleep for a few hours, which gives Resistance officials time to transport their suspects to their bases or ships where they are then defrosted and awaken for interrogation.

•He’s kind, loyal, compassionate, giving, caring, and daring.

•He’s openly gay and is currently courting a male Pantoran named Quill Woves, House Kryze foundling son of Axe Woves and his Covent husband, Octavian.

•Has a tight-knit relationship with his family clan.

Strengths:

•With his expertise in combat and weaponry, Kanan is a true force to be reckoned with. Especially when it comes to use his of his lightsaber and various blasters he has on him.

•Although he’s not regarded as the Galaxy’s “best pilot” nor does he think of himself in that regard, Kanan’s piloting skills are a great asset for any given mission if he asks for assistance.

•His usage of the force allows them to see through people’s true colors to determine if they can be trusted or not.

•His knowledge on weaponry and how to build them has allowed him to create different types of weapons that serve both the Mandalorian people and the Resistance.

Weaknesses:

•His lack of diplomatic skills tends to put him at odds with politicians and generals. This can lead him to get frustrated during debates and arguments.

•Has a reputation for testing his new weapons once but not test them again through additional trials. This has caused problems with some of his weaponry inventions like not working during a mission, or just suddenly blowing up from an undetected defect that could’ve easily been fixed.

•Gets nervous to the point where he begins to suffer from panic attacks.

•Can be reckless while flying ships.

Armor:

Helmet: A typical Grunt-styled Wren helmet that Kanan inherited from a fallen Clan Wren member who died during a civil war on Mandalore. The hand painted signet on is similar to his late uncle Tristan and serves as an ode to the uncle he never got to meet.

•Chest and Neck Pieces: Inherited from the maternal artist grandfather he never got meet, Kanan’s “galaxy”-styled chest and neck armor is decorated with fulcrum and Jedi “jaig eyes” symbols in honor of his failed namesake Kanan Jarrus, and long-time family friend Ahsoka Tano, who helped train him and appreciate his force sensitivity for the good it can provide to people across the galaxy.

•Pauldrons: Similar to Prince-Consort Din Djarin-Kryze of Mandalore, Kanan’s pauldrons, forged by his future sister-in-law and Din’s daughter Princess Mirta Djarin-Kryze. The “Star Bird” signet represents his parents’s legacy and the role they played in the Rebellion while the “9” symbol represents his code name “Spectre-9”.

•Gauntlets: Similar to Axe Woves in both style and functionality but with classical Clan Wren colors and functions. They were a gift he received from his boyfriend Quill when they first started courting.

•Hand armor: Similar to his mother’s.

•Thigh Plates: Similar to Fenn Rau’s

•Knee Armor: Similar to his late maternal uncle’s but can shoot missiles out of them.

•Shin Guards: Typical Clan Wren-styled shin guards.

•Jetpack: Similar to Prince Consort Din Djarin-Kryze.

Armor Color Scheme:

•Madison

•Light Gold

•Dull Yellow

•Nickle

•Greyish Navy

•Mischka

•Silver Chalice

•Oil (a shade of brown)

•Payne's Gray

•Heather

•Blue Rhapsody

Soft Parts:

•Similar to his late maternal uncle’s but with a dull yellow Sasha around his waist.

Belt:

•Similar to his late maternal uncle’s.

Weapons in Possession:

•2 identical Westar blasters

•1 light saber with a designed that’s mix between his parents’ sabers that’s powered with a yellow kyber crystal.

Ok, he was hard to make as well. I did not know how to show his main skills/role, but then the thing that he is graffiti artist it helped to put a few things on the wall/column next to him :)

[kryzobi-wan]

The Sound of Mandalore

Chapter 13/20: Something Good

Read on AO3

<< Chapter 12

Satine stood out on her private terrace, breathing in the stillness of the night. It had been quiet recently. She was thankful for that. The cityscape loomed before her, twinkling in the way she loved to watch.

Down below, in the palace gardens, the Jedi meandered through rows of flowers and plants, stopping every so often to look closer at one. He was wearing a much different outfit than he usually wore, and Satine wondered how she hadn’t noticed before. Gone were his robes and flowing sleeves. Instead, he wore a dark blue tunic and trousers, along with a cape slung over his shoulders.

Now she was certain he hadn’t been wearing this before. Or if he was, it was underneath his signature outer robe. He looked nice. He looked—Mandalorian.

While Satine puzzled over this development with a pensive look on her face, another figure joined her on the balcony.

“There you are,” Tal Merrik spoke with a toothy smile, resting his elbows on the railing next to her. She could feel the edges of his clothes brush against her upper arm, causing a shiver to creep up her spine.

He followed her line of sight down to the garden and immediately stiffened, his smile almost imperceptibly shifting into something less sincere. “I was hoping we might discuss some changes to our public policy, before I head back to Kalevala.”

Satine made no effort to shift her gaze away from Obi-Wan, so lost in thought she was.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the right state to be discussing politics right now, Senator, you’ll have to forgive me,” she answered.

Merrik nodded, standing back up to his full height and stepping closer, his body turned to face the Duchess.

“That’s alright, Satine. We can discuss… other things instead, if you’d prefer.”

As he spoke, he lifted his hand and brushed his fingertips against her arm, causing her to immediately jolt away. He had at least accomplished one thing: her focus had finally been torn away from Kenobi.

She shot him a nasty glare and exclaimed, “Senator Merrik!”

Despite her negative reaction, he only drew nearer, causing Satine to back away. Her gaze flicked back down to Obi-Wan. He had taken a seat on a bench that she knew offered a wonderful view of the city. What she wouldn’t do to be down there with him instead of up here.

Just when she was about to call on her guards, the tapping of metal on transparisteel announced someone else’s arrival, and both Merrik and Satine turned to see Anakin Skywalker standing in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“Everything alright, Duchess?” he asked, his piercing gaze fixed on Merrik.

Satine shot him a grateful look and responded, “Yes, the Senator was just leaving. He unfortunately must return to Kalevala tonight on urgent business.”

Merrik’s mouth opened and closed, unable to formulate an intelligent response. It seemed not even the Senator was brave enough to challenge one of the most powerful Jedi in existence. At least, he was smart enough not to try.

Anakin stepped closer, making his height advantage quite clear over Merrik. “You’d best be on your way then, Senator,” he said, the threat evident in his voice.

Merrik knew when he was beat. He cleared his throat, looking between the two of them before bowing to Satine and leaving through the open doorway at once.

Once he had gone, Satine sighed in relief. “You have the best timing, Knight Skywalker,” she spoke, leaning back against the railing.

“I sensed I might be needed out here,” he explained with a shrug.

She’d only met the newly knighted Jedi once, the night of the ball, but already she felt a kinship with the man. There were qualities in him that she recognized, little idiosyncrasies that reminded her of the connection he shared with another Jedi she knew.

“I suppose I have you to thank for bringing Obi-Wan back,” she said, straightening into her Duchess persona now that she’d recovered from the uncomfortable situation with Merrik.

Anakin raised his hands and chuckled a bit. “Hey, I’m just the pilot, he hasn’t said anything to me about what happened.”

Satine raised her eyebrows at that. Obi-Wan really kept to himself, didn’t he, if not even his former Padawan knew what was going on in that ridiculous brain of his. She sighed.

“So, there’s really nothing going on between you and the Senator?” Anakin asked suddenly, and Satine turned to give him an incredulous look.

“Merrik? Heavens, no.”

The Knight gave a satisfied nod. “Good. You’re much too independent, I can tell. You need someone that understands that.”

Skywalker would know all about that, wouldn’t he, if what she suspected about the man and that Senator Amidala was true.

She smiled softly. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

They settled back into silence for a few moments, listening to the distant hum of traffic. Anakin’s eyes drifted out over the garden, and Satine’s followed. They both knew who they were looking for.

He was still there, sitting peacefully among the topiaries and fountains, the perfect picture of contentment.

Anakin spoke again, his voice serious, but warm. “Somewhere out there, I think there’s a man like that for you. A man who…” he paused, a wide grin spreading across his face. “A man who will never be on the Jedi Council,” he finished with a laugh.

Satine’s eyes snapped back to Anakin’s as if to judge if he were joking or not. When she saw nothing but complete sincerity and delight, her disbelieving gaze returned to the Jedi below. Her heart was aflutter, and this time she didn’t even try to suppress the hopeful smile that lit up her face.

Anakin gave a knowing look, his smile shifting into one of quiet contentment. “I knew it,” he said in a whisper, whether to himself or to her, she couldn’t say. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He bowed, an extra bounce in his step as he began to inch his way out the door. “Tell Obi-Wan that if he ever needs anything, just give me a call.”

Before Satine could even find the words to properly thank him, he was gone.

-.-.-

The garden really was a nice escape from the palace. If Obi-Wan was being honest, he hadn’t even considered that Tal Merrik might still be a guest in Sundari when he returned. It made for a less than ideal environment for what he wanted to say to Satine, the words for which he had been rehearsing in his head the entire ride over here.

As he sat on a bench under a lovely flourishing tree, he considered whether he had avoided a big mistake by not telling her how he felt after all. Perhaps it was not meant to be. Force, he wished Qui-Gon had a few wise words for him now. It made so much more sense when he explained everything. Now he was stuck wondering if he’d misinterpreted the Force’s calling.

He was moments away from going to find Anakin when a melodic voice called out, “Hello there,” from behind him. He turned to see Satine standing beneath the tree with a kind smile on her face. “I hoped I might find you here,” she said.

Obi-Wan stood from the bench at once, ever the gentleman. “Did you need something, Duchess?”

“No, no not at all,” Satine waved him off. “Do you mind if I sit?” she asked, nodding to the bench.

The Jedi Master shook his head, gesturing for her to take a seat. Once she was seated, he sat down beside her and waited for her to speak.

“I… wanted to ask you,” Satine began, nervously running a hand through her hair. “Why did you really go back to the Jedi Temple? The truth, this time. And—and why did you return?”

Obi-Wan fixed his gaze on some point far, far away.

“I—I was given this mission by the Council, and I came back to fulfill it,” he explained simply, jaw set firm.

“Yes, you Jedi never do anything by halves,” Satine mused. “Is that all?”

“I did miss the children,” he added after a moment.

Satine’s eyes rested on his face now, watching every imperceptible movement for some sign of what was going on in his deeply complicated mind.

“Only the children?”

Obi-Wan turned suddenly, and she saw a flash of cautious hope behind his eyes as he looked seriously at her. “Why do you ask, Satine?”

The silver-tongued Jedi had turned her own question back on her, and she found herself ill-prepared with a response. Unable to sit still, she stood and began to pace beneath the tree. “Oh, I was only hoping that you’d—perhaps you might—”

“Yes?” His patient voice cut through her ramblings, drawing her back to him. At some point he had stood from his spot and come closer, and now his nearness was beginning to do funny things to her brain.

“Well, nothing was the same when you were away… and it will be all wrong again if you leave… I was just hoping—" Obi-Wan’s gaze met hers, and for the life of her she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If he would just show some emotion, it would help her immensely. When his eyes flitted away from hers, her heart sank. Maybe it wasn’t as easy as Anakin had made it sound. “Unless, I understand, you are needed back on Coruscant. The Republic needs its General, you have Anakin… I understand if you can’t—the Jedi Council—"

“There won’t be a Jedi Council,” Obi-Wan broke in, in a tone that was so matter of fact that Satine was sure she had heard wrong. “Not for me.”

“No Council? I don’t—"

“Well, I’m preparing to leave the Order, you see.”

The silence that followed, paired with the small half-smile that had broken across his face, nearly swallowed her whole.

“You…” she could barely stand to hope, “You are?” Her eyes desperately searched his, but she found nothing but truth in them.

“Yes,” he said, his soft gaze turning to glance around at their surroundings. He plucked a small white bloom off a low hanging branch of the tree, twirling it between his fingers. “Well, you can’t exactly… be a Jedi,” he mused, “when you’re madly in love with someone…” The space between them grew ever smaller, and he lifted her hand into his own. “Can you?”

Satine shook her head slowly, feeling as if she were in a dream. Surely this couldn’t be happening. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Obi-Wan leaned in closer, brushing his fingers gently over her chin and up her cheekbone. Tilting his head forward, he rested his forehead against hers, imploring eyes meeting hers from beneath thick eyelashes.

His plea came as a desperate whisper against her lips. “Say the word, Satine.”

She closed her eyes and brought her hand up to cover the one that now cupped her cheek. Her other hand clutched tightly to his, trapped between their beating hearts. One beat. Two beats.

“Stay,” she breathed, the words leaving her lips with a great wave of relief the way she wished they had all those years ago.

And with that, he drew her into a kiss, dropping her hand so he could press her closer to him. His arm wrapped around her lower back, fingers grazing over the fine fabric of her dress, soft and silky beneath his fingertips. Satine rested her hand on his jaw, and she smiled into the kiss at the sensation of his beard under her thumb.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t as opposed as she’d initially thought to the beard.

When they broke apart, Obi-Wan smiled softly and pulled her close, wrapping her in an embrace. She held him tight, and he nuzzled into her hair. It smelled of lilies, just like he remembered.

Her fingers tangled in the short hair at the back of his neck where once there had been a Padawan braid. So much had changed in the time they’d been apart. But at the same time, so little. Contentment radiated off him, and he didn’t seem likely to let go any time soon.

“Master Yoda always said, when the Force closes a hatch, it opens a viewport,” Obi-Wan mumbled into her shoulder.

Satine pulled him back, her hands framing his bearded face as she smiled up at him fondly. “What else does Master Yoda say?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice.

Despite her teasing tone, he answered back honestly. “He says you must always follow the will of the Force.”

Satine studied his face again. “Is that why you came back? To find the will of the Force?” Obi-Wan nodded, his hands resting on her elbows now to keep her close to him. “And have you found it, Master Jedi?” The softness of her voice sent a pang through his chest.

“I think I have,” he said, “I know I have.”

Tears pooled in Satine’s eyes. Her heart felt as light as a feather, the weight of some past loss now at last lifted. She was free—they both were. Free to say the things they had always wanted to, to speak aloud the words they’d only ever whispered under the cover of night, far away from Qui-Gon’s listening ears.

“I love you, my dear Obi-Wan,” she spoke, pulling him down to her. He bowed his head, allowing her to pepper him with kisses all the way from his jaw, to his cheeks, and up to his forehead.

As far as he was concerned, this was eternal bliss. As she showered him with affection, he leaned into her touch and wondered aloud, “What did I do to deserve this?”

He had been through so much. From a young age, he had seen and experienced things that most children were carefully sheltered from. He had been sent to help, of course—that was his purpose in life—but that didn’t take away the trauma that Obi-Wan was now realizing he had suffered. He would always be grateful for his time with the Jedi, would always look back on it with fondness, but he could no longer say everything they did was inscrutable. This war was enough proof of that.

And Satine. How much had she gone through, being forced away from her home planet by a deadly Civil War? Being chased by bounty hunters and terrorists, only to be thrust into rule at such a young age upon her return? She led an unprecedented Council of Neutral Systems in the heat of a Galactic War the likes of which had never been seen before, all while dealing with dissenters on her own planet as well.

They had both faced impossible circumstances, yet their paths had somehow led them here. And Obi-Wan would thank the Force every day for that beautiful, amazing, unbelievable fact.

Her thoughts seemed to be along the same lines as his. She pressed her head into the crook of his neck, arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders as she basked in the love she felt practically radiating off him.

“We were barely more than children when we met, Obi,” she whispered, entranced by the comforting circles he traced up and down her back.

He smiled, leaning back to listen to her properly. She always liked that, how he truly listened when she talked, possessing a genuine interest in what she had to say. His undivided attention made her feel like nothing else mattered but the two of them, all the rest of the world melting away.

She continued. “Somehow, even through the terror and the misery, something must have gone right, I suppose. For us to end up here together.” Grabbing her hands, he brought them to his lips. “And for you to love me as you do, even if perhaps you shouldn’t,” she finished with a fluttering laugh.

Obi-Wan beamed at her.

“Do you know when I first started loving you?” he asked, looking more free than he ever had before. She awaited his answer with a smile. “That time in the cave when you refused to wear shoes at night and got stung on your foot while you were asleep.”

The Jedi—her Jedi—broke into giggles as he recalled the occasion, his cheeks turning pink beneath that auburn beard of his.

“What?” she exclaimed, laughing with him.

“I had to carry you all the way up the mountain on my back the next day,” he finished, barely able to get the words out. It certainly hadn’t been one of her finer moments, she remembered. She hated admitting when he was right, and this was one of those few times.

“I knew the first time you blew up at me for complaining about the lack of amenities on one of those forsaken planets.” She smiled at the memory fondly. She had been so young back then. Relatively naïve. When they were together, it didn’t take long to push each other to their limits. That was, after all, part of the fun. He didn’t see her as some princess, walking on eggshells around her as others did. He made his opinions known, just as she did in return.

How, how, had they loved each other for so long, and done nothing about it?

“Oh, my dear, I’ve always loved you,” Obi-Wan said, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face with the gentlest of touches. His eyes shimmered in the dim glow of the city.

Satine smiled up at him and made her own vow. “And I always will.”

Draping her arms around his neck, she brought her lips to his once more, kissing him deeply.

“Obi-Wan,” she whispered into the kiss, “Is there anyone I need to go to to ask permission to marry you? The Jedi Council?”

Obi-Wan pulled back to look into her eyes in surprise and with complete, unrepentant joy.

“Darling, the Council couldn’t stop me from marrying you if they tried,” he said with a grin. “Though perhaps we should ask—”

“The children?” she finished.

He nodded.

“And particularly Korkie,” he said, a knowing—yet content—look in his eye. “I should think he’d like a say in his parents finally tying the knot.”

Satine was momentarily speechless. “You know,” she stated, the slight waver in her voice betraying her nervousness that this secret had evidently come out.

“I had an inkling,” Obi-Wan explained. “But don’t you worry, my dear. There will be plenty of time to discuss later. For now, I’m just so happy, nothing could ever take away from that. And he’s truly a remarkable young man. I am so proud of you both.”

She wrapped her arms around him again, words caught behind a lump in her throat as she adjusted to this new reality where there were no more secrets between them. It was equal parts relieving and guilt-inducing.

“He doesn’t know,” she admitted with a slight frown.

“Then we’ll tell him together,” Obi-Wan promised, his eyes meeting hers with sincerity and an overabundance of love. How he was able to be so gracious to her, she didn’t know. But she was thankful for this, for them.

This was it. The Force had led them to this moment, and Obi-Wan knew in his very soul that it was the right path for him. His heart felt like it might burst with happiness, and Satine—he knew—felt the same.

The night grew cold, and the palace lights slowly flickered out, but they remained there like that for some time, wrapped in each other’s loving embrace.

-.-.-

Anakin watched from the balcony, a smirk plastered on his face as he observed the couple down below in the garden.

His eyebrows lifted, impressed by what he saw. “Not bad, old man,” he muttered, watching as the figures engaged in a passionate kiss.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his comm device and flicked it on, dialing the frequency he knew best. It wasn’t long before she picked up.

“Padmé,” he spoke into the comm. “You owe me 20 credits.”

-.-.-

[twinterrors29]

Obitine Anastasia AU

Death Watch has taken over the Mandalore Sector after successfully assassinating the Duke 10 years ago; a visiting Jedi attempted to smuggle out his daughters, but his eldest daughter, Satine, was lost along the way to safety, leaving his youngest daughter Bo-Katan to build a government-in-exile on Kalevala as everyone believes her sister to be dead

as she plots to retake her sector, Bo-Katan is well aware of the weight a symbol like the lost heir to the Duchy would represent, and starts quietly searching for any sign of her missing sister

enter a young Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who has been charged by the Republic Senate with helping stabilize the Sector, preferably under a more Republic-friendly regime

he learn of the young Duchess-in-exile's search, and recognize it as his best chance to win the Sector's favor

Obi-Wan manages to find a young political activist in Sundari, who shares not only the late Duke's looks but also his pacifistic ideals

after rescuing her from Death Watch assassins, he proposes his idea to pass her off as the missing Duchess-in-waiting; Sati agrees that even if she's not the presumed-dead Lady Kryze, she's willing to step into the role to serve her people

as word spreads of the would-be-Duchess, they fight their way through ever-increasing squads of Death Watch soldiers, bickering endlessly about the necessity of violence in self-defense and the importance of diplomacy

the pair quickly develop a grudging respect for each other's stances, that slowly blossoms into admiration and even affection

once they finally make it to Kalevala, they manage to arrange an audience with the Duchess-in-exile, who's rapidly becoming jaded with the various imposters Death Watch has sent to attempt to assassinate her

but when Sati walks into the room, they can both tell that something's different, only growing more certain as Sati relays her earliest memories of dancing with a red-headed little sister and escaping with an old man in the sewer tunnels before tripping and falling down a hidden grate into one of the rivers below

Bo-Katan is immediately ready to rally her support around herself and her returned sister to retake the sector, with Obi-Wan's implicit assistance as protection for her pacifistic figure head as Satine represents their movement to the unaffiliated clans, winning their support one by one

during their travels, their affection only grows further into love

finally, nearly a year later, the Kryzes have won enough support to retake Mandalore, symbolically setting up their new government in Sundari as a nod to Satine's time there

Obi-Wan would stay if Satine asked it of him

Satine knows

she doesn't ask

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Then, having strayed and gazed their fill, They closed around the fire; And all, in turn, essayed to paint The rival merits of their saint, A theme that ne’er can tire A holy maid; for, be it known, That their saint’s honour is their own.

Then Whitby’s nuns exulting told, How to their house three barons bold Must menial service do; ... And how, of thousand snakes, each one Was changed into a coil of stone When holy Hilda prayed; Themselves, within their holy bound, Their stony folds had often found.

Nor did Saint Cuthbert’s daughters fail To vie with these in holy tale; His body’s resting-place of old, How oft their patron changed, they told; How, when the rude Dane burned their pile, The monks fled forth from Holy Isle; O’er northern mountain, marsh, and moor, From sea to sea, from shore to shore, Seven years Saint Cuthbert’s corpse they bore.

This is the part of Marmion where I really started to love the poem, and it's still one of my absolute favourite parts. It hearkens back to the ancient sagas, where heroes contested with each other in boasting about their deeds of prowess. In Beowulf, a side character, Unferth, challenges Beowulf by running down one of his past deeds, and Beowulf bests him by describing, in detail, his heroic achievements; it can be summarized as Unferth saying "You're not all that" and Beowulf returning, "Yes, I am all that." Another one in a different style is when, in the Kalevala, the young man Lemmenkainen unwisely challenges the ancient Vainamoinen in, essentially, an intellectual duel of telling the things they know - Lemmenkainen's knowledge and experience is trivial next to Vainamoinen's, and he is utterly worsted (summary: "You know nothing, kid".) You could consider this type of verbal duel the ancestor of the modern rap battle.

And this section of Marmion feels like that ancient poetic device being brought forward into a an entirely different setting, era, and applied to an extremely unlikely group of people: two sets of nuns from different convents. But the basic pattern of it, each setting forth in turn the great achievements of their saints, is essentially similar. The poem is set in the 1500s, the early modern era, and much of its setting and style (knights, jousts, and chivalry) hearkens back to the medieval times, but this moment connects its to a far older tradition (ironically, one connected to the same Vikings whose sack of Lindisfarne is mentioned).

The realization that, as noted by @animate-mush, the "serpents changed to stone" by St. Hilda are in fact fossil ammonites, just puts the finishing touch on this fantastic section.