The day had finally arrived.
Her training had been long and rigorous, but finally, the heads of the clan had deemed her prepared.
Tempest Shadow was to become a Mandalorian this day.
When Tempest had first heard of the galaxy of mystery and opportunity that had been opened to her planet, she knew what she had to do. She still remembered what had happened years before, when Equestria was first contacted by alien life. They had brought their war to her birthplace, but not to her home. Tempest didn't have a home. She had given it up after her childhood accident left her disfigured.
But now, she would have a home once more.
Once she had saved enough money, she slipped away in secret, abandoning the Storm King and any hope of finding her destiny in service to him. She chartered a ship off of Equus, one of the few that came to visit the far-flung planet, and made her way into this galaxy she'd heard so many wondrous tales of; perhaps there, she would find her destiny and a place to belong.
Eventually, she ran out of money somewhere in the Outer Rim, which put an abrupt end to her planet-hopping. Fortunately, by some chance, she had landed on the planet that would grant her her destiny: Mandalore.
Tempest found herself in awe of the Mandalorian tradition. A proud warrior culture who would accept any into their ranks, so long as they adopted their customs and swore to live by their code of honor. Most of the clans consisted of the tall, bipedal, hairless race referred to as "humans," but members of various other species had chosen to don the distinctive armor and live by the Mandalorian's Creed. Tempest, already well-versed as a warrior, felt pulled towards these ranks of stark, armored beings; she felt as though she had found her new home.
When she first approached the clan of Mandalorians she would one day join, she was met with great suspicion. The warriors weren't exactly sure what Tempest was at first, but after explaining herself, they accepted her as a "foundling" and began her extensive training. By coincidence, it would appear that Tempest had stumbled across the perfect clan for her: it was formed by foundlings from multiple species. Among her newfound brothers and sisters were not only countless humans, but Twi'leks, Zabrak, Nikto, a Quarren, a Rodian, and even a Wookiee. They taught Tempest everything she would need to know to join the Mando'ade: among them, tracking, marksmanship, close-quarters combat, piloting, and the Mando'a language. After nearly a year of training, she was ready.
Tempest Shadow's hoof-steps echoed down the corridor as she followed Sheryl Nighthawk, a young human female who had served as one of her primary trainers. Her armor, fittingly, was dark; mostly a very deep purple, but with scattered pink markings, including those on her helmet resembling a predatory beak. She wore a jetpack with extending wings, to fit with the bird motif, and her collar was lined with fur. She was tall and physically fit, with legs like columns and arms that could choke out a gundark. Despite her fierce appearance, she had a soft, caring voice and relaxed demeanor. Tempest could only imagine what she looked like, though, as it was customary to never remove one's helmet around others.
The two turned into a small room off from the main hallway, and inside found a man in armor, hammering at something on a forge. He looked up upon hearing the door slide open, his eyes invisible behind the eye screen of his helmet.
"Tempest, this is our armorer, Orar." Sheryl said with a gesture. "He'll get you suited up for the ceremony this evening."
Tempest gave a polite nod. The armorer set aside what he was doing and walked over to inspect the diminutive Mandalorian.
"So you're Tempest Shadow?" he said. "I've heard plenty about you from chatter around the compound. Finally completed your training, have you, foundling?"
"Yes, sir." Tempest succinctly replied.
"Glad to hear it. I was a foundling myself, and it's always good to see a newbie get their armor... though I admit, I've never made armor for one of your... proportions before."
"He'll guide you through the specs of your suit, Tempest. Make it how you want it." Sheryl said, turning towards the door. "I'll leave you two to take care of that."
The door slid shut and Orar turned back towards his workspace. Tempest took a seat across from his forge, watching him as he rifled through his supplies.
"We've only got enough beskar to make you a helmet." he said. "The rest will have to be made of plastoid."
"Fine by me." Tempest said. "The helmet is the most crucial part of a Mandalorian's identity. Fitting that it should be made of beskar." Beskar was a steel-like alloy created by the Mandalorian people. It was extremely strong and durable, and a point of pride for the culture that they should work it into their weapons and armor.
From one of his drawers, the armorer removed a small, squat droid and powered it on. The droid's sensors lit up and it began beeping; small legs extended from its body and it hovered in the air, heading in Tempest's direction.
"Stand up and let the droid scan you." Orar said, tapping on his computer. "It'll give me an idea of what plates I need to make."
Tempest stood in place as the droid ran its red and green lights over her form. She wore only a black body glove and simple horseshoes, but she figured that the armor she would receive would be similar to that which the Storm King had given her-- but far better. She saw a three-dimensional image of herself appear on the armorer's computer screen. He turned it this way and that, making occasional small marks in an attempt to surmise the shape of the armor.
The young mare was involved in many steps of the process, from choosing aspects of the design to test-fitting the plates. She chose a shade of purple that complimented her own to decorate the armor with. Stripes and other markings were placed on the shoulder pads and breastplate, and she chose to have a Mandalorian symbol, the jaing head, stenciled onto the flank.
"Where did you say?" Asked the armorer, no doubt befuddled behind his helmet.
"Here." Tempest replied, pointing to the flank of the computer model with a hoof. "Both sides."
"That's an odd place for a symbol to go..."
"It's cultural."
Fortunately, the armorer asked no questions regarding Cutie Marks, and continued his work as directed.
The helmet--the most labor-intensive piece--was created last. Tempest was very clear about what she needed out of it: the ability to use her horn and swivel her ears. A neck guard was added for extra protection, and a thin piece was left out for her mane, simply because Tempest wanted it so. The armorer asked her to leave so he could concentrate, but after several hours of melting, shaping, and hammering, Tempest received the greatest gift she could have hoped for: a finely crafted beskar helmet, made just for her.
"You won't be putting this on until the ceremony." Orar told Tempest upon presenting it to her. "Once you put the helmet on, it never comes off. Got that?"
She nodded an affirmative, but couldn't take her eyes off the polished sheen of the Mandalorian iron.
Now, the time for the ceremony had arrived.
Tempest marched down the aisle under the rise of Mandalore's twin moons. Her brethren stood alongside her, clad in helmets and armor of all shapes and sizes. Though they had been born across the galaxy, lightyears apart, Tempest had grown to respect her clan, and they to respect her; enough to take her in, train her, and bestow upon her one of the most noble honors in the galaxy. The right to be called Mandalorian.
The armor fit her perfectly. Atop a form-fitting, blast-resistant body glove, Tempest sported plastoid plates across her chest, back, and flank, as well as a new set of durasteel horseshoes, the front two equipped with Mandalorian vambraces. Though she kept her countenance stern, inside she was beaming with pride. She'd finally found a place to belong. A place to find friendship. She no longer had to survive on her own; the clan was her life now.
Sheryl stood upon the dais in front of her, along with the others who had helped to train her in this lifestyle. At the center of them all was the clan leader, an elderly man named Aren Velt. He had led this patchwork clan for decades, but his age had not yet rendered him weak. He had been present for much of Tempest's training, and had taken a special interest in her abilities.
Tempest took her place in front of the dais, helmet in the crook of a foreleg. She and the crowd stood at attention.
"Children of Mandalore!" Velt's deep voice rang out through the courtyard. "Today, we welcome a new sister into our family. A foundling. The first of her kind to accept the call of Mandalore: Tempest Shadow of Equus!"
The crowd of warriors let up a sharp chant of enthusiasm.
"Now," he continued "we shall anoint her into our way of life, and, as part of our order, she shall carry on the blood of Mandalore." The chieftain's sharp, helmeted gaze turned towards Tempest. "Approach, Tempest Shadow."
The unicorn walked forward until she stood before the clan elder, tall and imposing in his armor and heavy cloak, lit from behind by rising moons. The old man extended his hands toward her.
"Your helmet."
Tempest carefully reared up and placed the helmet in his hands using her forelegs. Velt brought it up and inspected it, turning it in his hands.
"A finely crafted helm." He said in a low voice. "The armorer has done his work well." He turned the helmet to face the crowd and held it aloft.
"This shall be Tempest's new face." His voice echoed once more. "From now on, she shall be but one in a legion. She shall protect us as we shall protect her. Her successes shall be ours, as shall her failures. Now, she shall recite our creed, and become one of our own."
The attention of the crowd collectively turned towards Tempest.
"I will wear the armor and speak the language of the Mandalorian." she said, projecting her voice. "I will defend myself and my family. I will raise my children as Mandalorians. I will support my clan and its welfare, and come to its defense when called." She repeated these tenets in Mando'a, and the chieftain knelt to her level.
"Then you are Mandalorian."
Velt carefully placed the helmet onto Tempest's head. Only her ears, mane, and broken horn remained visible. The crowd behind them burst into an uproar of cheers. Tempest turned to face them, the moonlight glinting off of the polished beskar.
With her face now concealed, Tempest allowed herself a proud smile.