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  1. The sudden shift of the ship beneath my feet signalled our exit from hyperspace as the rest of the men began the final turning of their armor and weapons check, myself sitting only in silence as we awaited the rest of our orders. So much had changed since I began running with my fellow 'vod, from our shortly live crusade until now where I follow Mandalore's second in command into the unknown, questions about Kad Ha'rangir and his purpose filling my thoughts for the most part. I tightly gripped my blade and slammed into the metal near my leg in disappointment and despite, one of my fellow 'vod tossing me a helm mumbling "You're going to need it." as I looked up. Tearing my blade from the metal, I rose and placed the buy'ce upon my head, sealing it tightly. It was time to act and I needed to get my game face one. I was growing accustomed to being in the openness of space, feeling its pressure against my form, the weightlessness of its atmosphere and how to maneuver myself within it. So when I positioned myself in weight, it felt almost as if it was second nature to me, like I've done it all my life. And in a sense, it was a tad bit freeing in a sense as we watched the target move into position and our gunner disable it. Without a second thought, we lept forward, some using proposition to make the leap, others like myself allowing our own momentum to glide us into place as the next stage began. Like blocks lined and tipping in a row, we responded to Tros' comm, whether in voice or in agreeing nod as we went down the line and as soon as the hatch was open, we made our move. But even beneath the buy'ce I was wearing, the noise of the klaxons and alarms tore at my hearing as we settled in, and once the airlock was sealed, I tossed the blasted thing aside. This was why I hated helms, and I'd rather much be deaf than blind at moments like this. Blades in hand, my blinded gaze shifting about, I followed closely behind Tros as we began to fan out.
  2. As my conversation with Tros took place, there was something off about the man. His movements, his reactions, his words... they seemed to hint at a sadness within. It perplexed me, making my wonder in silence as to what troubled him, if anything troubled him at all and my mind wasn't just merely playing tricks upon me. It was a difficult thing to read, my sight completely different compared to how others saw the Galaxy, and was why I never mentioned it when Tros spoke and began to leave the cockpit. "Right." Was the only words that escaped my lips, placing my hand upon his own as it sat upon my shoulder, griping it with a firm shake before releasing it and turning to follow him to the others. Moving past Vrax and Tros as they conversed for a brief moment, I would join the others after retrieving my weapons from the main hold where I had spent much of my time earlier, the twin beskar blades once again adorning my back. I only wished Hati had been able to join us, feeling a sense of loss over my companion as i moved to rejoin the group. She needed to stay with the Fleet, and I needed to find my purpose. In time, we would be whole again. As the others drew their weapons to the ready after Tros revealed the plan, I unsheathed the twin blades, giving Tros a strong unwavering nod. Perhaps he was my purpose.
  3. Tros brought up a good point as I stood there, my arms crossed with the fitting of my armor still tense from the fresh additions as I stared out into the staticed lines of hyperspace through my force vision, its allure always quite fascinating to me despite having only ever seen it'a true form through cybernetic implants I once adorned. It was a beginning, and any beginning was better than an end. "Only what I remember from my childhood, stories told by the Elders of my Clan." I spoke in earnest, my face turning from the forefront to his own. "But I've never been one to rely on divine luck. I'd much prefer to make my own."
  4. I was silent for most of the trip, choosing to be mindful of my own company rather than mingle among the masses. Outside of Rose, I was much of an outsider even among my kinsmen, a Dar'Manda whether this Tros chose to see it or even speak it. So after boarding his ship, I found myself a quiet place to reforge my armor within his hold, finding what little scrap material I could use for the process. Much of it was durasteel, a bit of leather, and a few bits of cloth. It wasnt much, but I couldn't leave myself exposed if I went into battle anytime soon. I laid out my cuirass and pauldrons to the side, gazing over what little remained of my ancestor's ancient armor. To myself, it was shameful, almost pathetic, and deep inside I wept at what I had done to it. As the last of my Clan, i should have taken better care of it. Yet, alas, i could not dwell upon it for long. This crew, thos Tros, they were Manda, and their hearts sung for battle just as mine had just recently and partially still ached for. I needed to be ready should the moment come, lest i be left wanting. So i began. Most of the durasteel were no more than left over shrapnel by the looks of it, so i forced to make greaves out of an old chainmail fashion, hammering and bending each piece into the next until a pattern began to form. And beneath it, i layered leather to lay against my thighs to keep from chafing. Yet, i was presented with some large chunckes of metal that i was able to use to make the vambraces and shin guards for the singular pair of leather boots I had found amidst the leather and cloth. Slowly my armor was beginning to take form before my eyes as I flowed into the process, disgusted in some aspects, but mesmerized in others. I held little left by the time most of the armor was complete, just a little cloth, leather and enough durasteel to forge half a helm. So I instead chose a different path than I had before. Forging what was once known as a bevor, I managed to encompass most of my cheek and jaw line as well as my neck by wrapping it around and sautering it together. With what little material I had left, I added cloth, leather, and a few slivers of durasteel to skirt over the embarrassing greaves and leather boots in a robe like fashion. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I stood up, saying a bit from both exhaustion and my legs having numbed from sitting too long. It was unorthadoxed for Mandalorian Armor, but it would have to do... at least for now. Just as I had finished dressing, I noticed Tros walking by. Grabbing the last piece of cloth i had, i tied it around my eyeless lids and began following him, and by the time i arrived, overheard the last bit of his conversation. "It isn't much as far as payments go for such a job..." I spoke in jest, leaning against the cockpit's entryway. "But it'll buy me some solid material to rebuild my armor properly."
  5. I watched in silence as the second took his leave, the first offering up his words in private after he had taken his leave. Beyond my exposed sockets, I gazed upon his visage in wonderment. So many of our ilk had began to abandon our cause, and like the vod before me, I still sensed a purpose to be found through Kad Ha'rangir. Just as I was about to speak, my mouth open briefly just as a voice spoke inside my mind. "Follow." "Canderous is fine if you are uncomfortable with my title," I spoke, extending my hand to meet his own. "But it is what I am. I have walked its path for far too long to know anything else, the last of my Clan, and no redemption to be found." A half hearted smirk crept across my face. "Perhaps I will find it in following you."
  6. It was a common occurrence, to be viewed as less than. I was a painful sting that I had bore my entire life. My clan had been wiped out by our very own people due to this, yet I had long let go the hatred I held for its stigmata. But as I stepped forth from the door in nothing but standard issue armorweave, the chest plate and pauldrons of my ancient armor in my arms along with my blades, I found myself face to face with its brunt realization once again, the sting never lessening as my blinded gaze fell upon the two before me. "Canderous Bralor." I spoke as my face shifted to the side, the empty sockets of my Miraluka bloodline uncovered by the disguarded helm I could no longer hide beneath. "But most call me Dar'Manda." His companion was like so many of our kin, their distaste for the tainted blood that coursed through my veins long considered a curse upon my Clan. I could never understand why some Mandalorians feared the Force, but we of Clan Bralor had always accepted it, another weapon of many within our ever filled arsenal. But this man before me, the one called Tro'solus, he reminded me much of Rose truth be told, and yet, there was something different about him even compared to her. Even though I was blind in the typical sense, I could still hear and see this as clear as day. "What did he mean by your ship, 'vod?"
  7. Days passed as I laid upon a bed within the medbay, not much to do but stare up at the ceiling with the occasional wander around the room with my sight to hinder the onset of madness as my wounds healed. Most were minor, scratches, cuts, bruises. But the seared flesh of my thigh was what kept me bed ridden and from walking out that door. But in truth, even if I was capable, a part of me enjoyed the moment of solace. It gave me time to quiet my mind, gave me time to think on things that had been happening as of late, of Kad Ha'rangir, of my purpose in his name. And so I did in those moments that I laid awake after each bacta dressing was changed for fresh ones. I was Dar'Manda. I was soulless. I held no place in the afterlife, in Manda. So why did he constantly call to me, invade my thoughts and control me at his every whim? I hadn't thought much about this since i accepted the offer on Tatooine during its invasion and the loss of Rose and Rru. I simply acted without thought, forever forward into his holy crusade as his hands because it gave me hope, it gave me purpose. I am Canderous Bralor, last of my clan, a lineage that dated back millennia. And I was the last due to our belief and ability to wield the Force. After all, any true warrior knew that you were supposed to use every weapon in your arsenal in order to gain victory. So why was my clan wiped out and I labeled Dar'Manda simply based upon such a powerful tool? As i laid there, i occassionally looked over toward the ancient armor that my clan had passed down since the years of the Old Republic, nothing left save for the Beskar Chestplate and Pauldron that bore our emblem, the only pieces left of it, my own blood now staining it. I knew I would repair it with parts I could find, but what would be the point? Rumors had been beginning to circulate of Manda'lore's disappearance and that the Crusade was all but in shambles after this last fight. And for a singular moment, i felt Kad Ha'rangir had forsaken us. "Rise Canderous." I heard the all too familiar voice speak, its otherworldly tone echoing so deeply in my head that I flinched in pain. "I have not forsaken you, only the leaders who led you down an unrighteous path." I gripped the bridge of my nose to quell the pain of my head, removing the covers from my form and sitting up on the bed's edge. "Unrighteous path?" I questioned, my thoughts upon the crusade having brought honor and chaos in his name. How could it be unrighteous? "They grew weak and complacent, fell to the allure of Arasuum, the allure of sloth." It spoke again, I finding myself confused even more by its words. We had won back Coruscant, rid the Galaxy of Kain, and defeated the Jedi here at Chandrilla. We were almost at Mandalore. So how had they fallen to Arasuum? "Have you recieved any orders Canderous? Have my followers left Chandrilla yet? No. For your leaders have none to give." There were truth in his words. Aside from the gathered Forces, no new orders had been issued, no movement in days now, and an ominous mood had beset the men for days now. I had even begun to notice that there were less and less footsteps walking the halls. Even with my blinded sight, fewer and fewer caught my gaze. It was if they were scattering to the wind. But if that was the case, what could... or should I do? That was the question that had been plaguing my mind for days now. "Rise and gather what remains of your armor and weapons." It spoke again as I rose from the bed to do so, almost buckling from the pain of the nearly healed leg as I did. "Go forth and preach the law of my word with your blades. Remind those of Arasuum that even through me, a Dar'Manda can regain his Manda." Never did I suspect that my next mission (@saberforce) would pass by that very door the moment I exited it.
  8. And just like that, Chandrila's footnote was claimed, a mere stepping stone toward a greater honor. The battle had been but a blur for me, my actions not of my own, but the guiding hand of Kad Ha'rangir, an instrument within its grasp. I was merely along for the ride, a passenger meant only to bare witness. And when I regained control of my form, I sat there, floating among the stars as I gazed into the abyss of infinite. Then I felt a tug upon my waist, my harness disturbed by Hati's awakening form as she came back online. Reaching out and grabbing the line, I slowly pulled myself toward her. My muscles ached, my flesh burned, and my mind grasped at unattainable straws as I tried to piece together what happened. I managed to reach her and climb upon her saddle, my blinded gaze looking about into the debris and mutilated forms that surrounded me. But no life existed, only death. But that held no surprise for me. For death was one of my oldest companions, always there to claim everything i cherished and constantly remind me of who i was, a Dar'Manda, foremost and forever. Only now, I was a Dar'Manda of Kad Ha'rangir, a cursed and soulless being forged from the fires of death its self. Patting Hati, we headed toward the Dreadnaught that laid ahead of us, and when we landed, both of us fell out upon it's cold durasteel plating. Rest was what I needed, but there was no rest for the wicked in my singular case. Moments would pass us by as we laid there, finally a few of our kin coming to our rescue as I felt the tug upon my form as my armor was discarded and bandages soon adorned cuts and bruises. Laying there in silence, unaware of what had transpired, I began to wonder upon the horizon of what my life was beginning to unfold. Was I truly the voice of Kad Ha'rangir?
  9. "So you seek to defy me? The voice that haunted my mind spoke as I sat upon Hati within the blackened void, thousands of my brethren upon my back, deafening silence even amongst we legions. "I only defy the will that is not my own or that of my Manda'lor, your chosen one." I retorted as my unholy gaze shifted about the battlefield, the static of my vision blurred save for the cautionary figurines of what laid before us. "Yet it was I whom gave you purpose Dar'Manda, one who gave you sight where your kind is denied it by your birthright." It responded slyly, attempting to cause me to doubt my convictions, fully aware that it would hold no sway no matter which button it managed to push or string it managed to pull. "A cursed sight that ended my Clan and left me soulless, an unwanted touch upon the mystical powers that my enemies behold. I spoke as I patted Hati's metallic form, before looking both to my right and left flanks, knowing what laid ahead of us all, and what resistance would befell us. "But a power nonetheless, the very power you wage war against in my name, yours to be weilded." It spoke as I raised my hand high into the air, the semblance of my blade glimmering but for a moment against the star's reflection. "I choose the path my Manda'lor wishes, not you." I spoke as I dropped my blade forward and began the assault as thousands upon thousands of mounted Mandalorians burst forward like a swarm destined to cleanse a soon to be reaped field before harvest, its initial aimed being the Jedi Ship Ara-Lai... and any whom dared oppose us. "Oya! For Manda'lor!
  10. The Darkness was a place of embrace, a void in which all were equal. Yet for those of my kind, it was the only life we knew. We could pretend to walk within the light among the others, feel the warmth of it upon our skin. But we always remained forever in our eternal darkness, unable to see what we felt, tasted, touched, or smelt. And that darkness is what we called home, for in that darkness, we could truly see. I held no need for a HUD within my helm, or sensors to alert me. No. I could see in ways very few could ever dream to envision, and very few things escaped my sight. This was why I was considered Dar'Manda, a soulless being incapable of redemption because i saw through what many of my ilk feared or disdained for thousands of millennia. I was touched by the Force. But this was also a gift, whether by the hand of Kad Ha'rangir or by fate, and I had long made my peace with it. After all, I once held the title that Terra now held. And now, I held promise of an afterlife by that very defining gift, the last of my Clan, a Dar'Manda with a soul. Unsheathing my blade, I knew what laid ahead. Whether the Imperials needed my help or not, I stepped forward from the shadows that had bound me, a hunter of the void, a beast of the darkness, and my blades stood ready to not defend them, but join them in what they faced upon the ground. I was a Master of War, born and bred for that singular purpose, and in the here and now, it called to the soul that resonated within me like the drums of war signaling the beating of death. Beneath the moonlight that glimmered across the twin blades, I charged forth with a roar that echoed with the power that flowed through me since the day I was born. And as the first of many stood against me fell, the mixture of hydrolic fluid and oil spraying across my armored form, I signalled my aid to those I stood amidst. It was their choice to define me as friend or foe, only I wouldn't wait for their approval as I charged toward the next that stood to take the place of the first, each falling to my blades as the tempered beskar carved their metallic forms up like filets and sliced into their mimicking veins. They were but fodder to their Master, and as such, I would treat them as so, all the while repeating the same rythmatic phrase. "For Manda'lor! For Kad Ha'rangir! For Dar'Manda!"
  11. As death and destruction ensued, I knew my place as harbinger. It was not my place to end their lives, but to place them upon the path to Kad Ha'rangir. If they survived, it was by his will and his will alone. Our place was simply as messengers, illuminating his word amidst holy flames. Placing my hand upon Hati's metallic form as her flames of crimson flew forth in bursts, I held no doubt in my duty, reassuring the ancient beast that we were but our Lord's guiding hands. And that was when I heard her voice echo through my helm. "Belay the orders?" I questioned in silence, Hati reacting to my thighs as i squeezed them against the saddle for her to stop. "Wasnt that what i was doing? Leaving the weak in our Lord's hands while fleshing out the strong? Her words made no sense, our beloved Manda'lor." "Ignore her words. Thin the herd Dar'Manda." I heard his voice speak as I felt his grasp through my protective pauldron. "Allow my flames to cleanse the souls of the weak so that they may join me in the afterlife and leave the strong to grow in their desire for revenge." "But what of Manda'lor's orders? Isn't she your holy messenger, your voice among our people?" I questioned, feeling an uneasy presence drop upon my conciousness as I questioned both intents. "You chose her as your leader. That is why you chose me to retrieve the Helm ot Mandalore the First for her." "Forget her for now. She is being influenced by outsiders, those whom wish to control my holy crusade as their own." The voice retorted, a raise in its tone echoing of rage and displeasure. "You are the one who I chose to be my hands. You are the one I chose to grant those of Arasuum salvation. You are my Dar'Manda, and you will obey." "But she is Manda'lore. She is your voice, your eyes, your mortal form upon the Galaxy. I cannot ignore your will." I responded, my mind clouded and torn by what was being said, what was being told. "I cannot and will not disobey my Manda'lor, even if what you say is true. She is your chosen messiah." "Enough!" The voice shouted, the echo of enraged spit flying through its lips as it spoke, my own anger beginning to boil as the confusing began to tear at me, causing me to wonder if it was even Kad Ha'rangir that I had been following all along. "You will do as commanded Dar'Manda!" As I settled Hati just east of the village, nestling the beast among a grouping of trees, I dismounted her and told her to wait as I gazed off into the flaming distance, Terra's words echoing in my mind as well as those of the voice that I myself had been hearing and believing for so long. Who was I to truly trust? I was Dar'Manda, soulless, and only through this holy crusade could I find my place in the afterlife. But to be Mandalorian, to know the tenants, was to follow Manda'lor without question. I had trusted this voice to be Kad Ha'rangir, and it had proven its self to be true until now, as I doubted Kad Ha'rangir would forsake his chosen one. Shaking the doubt from my mind, I knew of only one way to get to the bottom of this. If this being was truly was Kad Ha'rangir and what he said was true, then she would become as I, and he would claim her life through battle. But if he wasn't, she would survive and I would know my answer. Unsheathing my blades and disappearing into the darkened forest, I spoke but a lingering line as I went to join the others. "Dar'Manda or not, i will not disobey my Manda'lore or her wishes. If you have a problem with this, then claim my soul."
  12. The void of hyperspace was a truly mesmerizing sight even for one who held no eyes, its depth as unknown as its shallow pull upon one's consciousness and physical form. Its was a hard feeling to describe, like gravity without any gravitational pull. Especially to the near exposed form of one's own as we strode forward within its directional grasp. It reminded me of an old story that was once told by a now dead Elder of my Clan's name, one that spoke of a bridge that reached the immortalized drinking halls of Kad Ha'rangir where one drank the fermented blood of those ripped from the slothly grasp of Arasuum in death. And as we exited it, my mind embraced the thought that I had crossed such a threshold. But now, now was the time for action. I followed in suite of the others as we turned our direction, weaving through debris and carnage of events long past, revealing in the deathly handiwork of my lord's eternal will, whether it touched sentients or that of star systems, his works were self evident no matter where one stood in the Galaxy and our purpose was to finally reveal such truths to the masses, not by idle hands, but through action and revelations. It was the only way to purge the weakness of Arasuum and to become the beacons of strength and glory to those that would see our lord's works through our very hands. A task that only we, the chosen, could make into reality and present to the unfaithful. For seeing is the only true way of believing for those of weak mindedness. Recieving the coordinates from @Terra, I turned Hati's form toward the planet below. Hati and I were nearly of one being, one thought, one action. Our minds had melded perfectly, our faith in Kad Ha'rangir and of Manda'lor having brought our souls into unison. And we both reveled in the freedom we had been granted by it, finding peace in our pasts, and our thoughts in unison upon cleansing Arasuum from this Galaxy forever. Hati, like my armor and my Clan, was a remnant of ages long past, having seen many crusades rise and fall. But unlike the others, they failed to truly grasp Kad Ha'rangir's will. Only now, under this new Manda'lor, had it been truly realized, and we both knew it as we plummeted toward the planet's surface with blazing speeds, pulling up just mere meters from it as we headed toward her direction. Our orders were crystal clear. And as we neared the village, Hati released her cleansing flames upon the huts of the unfaithful and setting their souls aflame as Kad Ha'rangir reclaimed them from Arasuum's unholy grasp. Death would be slow and agonizing, and when we were done, we would leave their corpses hanging from the rafters for all to witness the merciful hand of our Lord. For their souls would join him in Manda, and there they would know his grace eternally.
  13. I heard Mandalore's words and nodded my head in acknowledgment without response, turning to follow this unknown member known as Tros as we left the arena. Briefly before I departed, I turned my gaze toward Rose and met fist to chest in regards to our separating of paths for now before turning around and catching up to the group I was following. I had heard many stories of this world known as Mrykr, but now it seems that I would step upon his soul for the first time. I would be going in blindly in more than one aspect, but at least I had my own kin to back me up. It wouldn't be the first time I was blinded. Another once made that fatal mistake, and I came out victorious that day. Now, it seems once again, that fate would lead me to test my metal in such a fashion, but I would not deny it. For what did not kill me will only make me stronger.
  14. I simply stood there, letting my words sink in and the fuel of my heart breath fire as he spoke, my blade lingering still in a firm clutch. I did hold a resemblance of respect as he mentioned the Echani belief, my memories of them honorable and fair, just as their hair and skin. Bit the words he spewed forth afterwards were nothing but, blemishing any respect that remained. The Echani were a proud race, a people that chose to speak through actions rather than words, nothing like he that stood before me. While it was true that I had a slight disadvantage, I came at him as an equal in stature despite the reality holding untrue. It was meant to be a showing of honor for his kind, but he rebuked my offering with little knowledge of my offering. My back still turned to his, I lowered my weapon as Rose and Terra stepped forward, his disrespect signing his own death. Sheathing my blade, I joined the others as the circle was drawn, removing my helmet to reveal the Miraluka beneath as cold empty sockets stared back at him. It was meant as a warning to him, a message that though I may have been blind, I had saw more than I had let on. And that should he die, the afterlife was lost to him. He would be claimed by Kad Ha'rangir, our Lord and Savior, forever lost in his path toward the great halls just as my fate would be as a Dar'Manda, a soulless. It was a fate I accepted, and I wondered in silence if it would he one that he too wished for. For as a soulless, there would be nothing to await us after death. Not the great halls, not the Force, not the belief of his people. Only the void that we left behind. "Oya! Oya!"
  15. I simply stayed there upon my knees, my part in this play of Kad Ha'rangir now complete, or so I thought. I reveled in this solemn moment of victory as the ashes of the sloth god flowed away with the winds, the capital of the one glorious Galaxy now an empty husk as snow began to fall across the planet's destructive landscape, its sun blotted out by the harsh toxics that filled its upper atmosphere. I could feel our Lord's heart beating with our own as we watched the events unfold before us, watched as Rose returned to my side, watched as my gaze met that of the one to replace me as the new Manda'lor, and watched Kad Ha'rangir display his power once more. Had I been anything but what I had became since Tatooine, my resurrection and the trails I had faced during Coruscant's cleansing, it would have surely churned my stomach. But now, I watched in admiration as the chosen one chose to gaze upon me, a mutual respect as I passed the helm I once wore myself down to her as my recognizing of her having been the chosen of Kad Ha'rangir. And in that moment, Kad Ha'rangir laid his own touch upon my very own soul, his own plans for me recognized as well. As the chants and dances began, something very similar to what took me on Tatooine once again delved into my soul and bestilled my beating heart as I feel into its foreseeing trance. My body went limp for a moment, just as the Hawkbat's screech shouted to the heavens, my body beginning to sway as I still knelt limp within the mud and blood. Oblivious to the world outside my own head, I could see a dream, a path, chosen by Kad Ha'rangir for me. But to the outside world, I would appear mad, as if possessed as my limp body began to rise and dance about during Terra's ceremony, the spirit of Kad Ha'rangir having taken full control of my form. A voice echoed within my head, the chants of the outside world echoing the rhythm of my own heartbeat, speaking to me of the future it had chosen me for, chosen me to preach his word and spread his cleansing across the Galaxy. I could feel his power flowing through my veins and I sighed in ecstasy as it tantalized my palate. I was his Dar'Manda, chosen for the sole purpose of ushering his Crusade. And I knew he reveled in my victory at Coruscant, the halls of his filled with the song of it. And it spoke of my Clan, the reason i had been chosen from the womb, why i held no eyes, having been plucked even before birth for the simple task of seeing what others could not. I was his instrument, meant to guide this Terra and the rest of us in his will even if they could not hear his voice. Terra was his touch, his will. I was his voice, his teachings. Rose would know his sight, and through her, we would know his plan. And with Tros, he would know his heart, and through him, we would know his wrath. These were his guiding principles, and through us, his holiest of crusades. Suddenly I felt my body's control return to me and with it, a new found feeling of the world around me. To the outside world, my crazed dancing would have stopped as I simply stood there, Terra's words echoing both in my ears and in my heart as i let loose the growl within my chest and it burst forth with the thrust of a fighter's engine. As my howl echoed through-out the landscape, it seemed as if Hati and other warbeasts felt my call and they began to mechanically roar with me as those around us joined us in our cheer for her words. "Arasuum be damned." As I spoke, one of my beskar blade was unsheathed and found itself at the neck of a newcomer (Durose), my gaze shifting toward the Cathar. "Kad Ha'rangir has need of you as well Cathar. Will you answer it?"
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