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Mandalore


Kakuto Ryu

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He let loose a sigh s he put his hands on his hips. Looking around once more, he could feel that the droid was correct. That of course made this scene a bit rather creepy. He look at the droid out of the corner of his eye, ignoring its question for now. Instead he moved forward and began walking into the city.

 

 

As he walked a small part of him wished, for the comforts he knew so well. Or at least a gas mask. However, the lack of bodies, made it clear that they population hadn't been wiped out where they stood, they had just simply left.

 

With no one else around to observe him, save the droid. His scoping out of his initial target was actually quite simple. He even paused to remark to the droid.

 

"This motors company. How much do you think it is worth?"

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Taking care to move aside in case a hazard assessment he took earlier had been wrong, HK-52 focused his HUD on the building.

 

He scanned internal pieces of equipment, large structures lining the interior of the Mandalorian factory and managed to even get their code locks from out here. HK-52 couldn't decode them or hack them without access to the terminal, but he could see that there were encrypted, even if the locks were small.

 

The droid assumed it was accounts and documents of proposed operations that were stored within the databanks of the system, but without hacking the system he'd never know.

 

The building itself however, was categorized and matched with large prices consistent with their take on the normal stoic markets and on the black market smuggling rings. There wasn't as much concrete data on the smuggling rings, but what He did know helped a little.

Observation: "The company seems to, as a whole, be worth over 500 million in Assets on the regular market and only 100 more on the black Market. Their cash on hand however may only amount to a small fraction of that.

 

Without actual access to their shipping manifests or their merchandising routes and documents, or their account information I can't tell beyond it. I would need access to a terminal on the inside to be able to get through and decipher with lucid accuracy... "

 

HK-52 as his head swiveled back to Desmond, his blue ampules trained on the hunter as he stood.

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The center of all Mandalorian political power, economic power, and military might.

 

He paid attention to the droid but for the most part he spent the first day and a half picking targets. He was simply overwhelmed by the free ticket he had been given. If he had his way, he would add the entire sum knowledge of mandalorian life, culture, political power and military might into his database. He was surrounded by a wealth of knowledge and opportunity.

 

However he was only there for one reason and that was to acquire funds for the war chest. His first target would be the Motors, after that he would hit the mandalorian bank he saw earlier in town. Maybe he would be able to drain the accounts of the mandalorians that were members, but more importantly that was cold hard credits he would be able to pack up and go with.

 

Then if he had the time, he would copy the files in the capital building, and in the motors company, and transmit them to his database of useful information. One could never have too much info after all.

 

Day two into the operation he was ready, he looked at the droid as he stood outside of company's doors.

 

"Alright this mission is simple. We doubt there are automated defenses, but just in case there are, you cover my back long enough to transfer the money to accounts I have set up. We will be taking their most recent profit margin, and then check their safe. Then we are going to leave, for the record the lifting of the hard credits will be up to you while I go get the ship. You ready to do this?"

 

He had no idea why he was asking the droid this. With out even waiting for an answer he slipped inside to head toward the offices.

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HK-52 waited until Desmond had disappeared around the corner to jab and felt slighted for his verbal wastefulness, but he felt it prudent no to openly chastise his master even if it was convenient for him.

 

Condescending Remark: "Oh... Well. While we're going at it, why not ask me to serve you drinks, or to be a small can of bolts on the aft of a star ship, giving my only biting comments in nothing more than Beeps and Boops..."

Sidelong Speculation: "Come to think of it" HK said, as he paused a moment and stared off into the distance, placing the top of his forearm on where his chin would've been had he been organic. "I knew one of those once... He annoyed me to no end, almost as much as a mouse droid, only louder. Needless to say, the owner's warranty expired."

 

HK-52's comments - as he had irrelevantly planned - did nothing to phase the man because he was already gone. It was such a devastation to waste prime insults on useless air, but the words still held some meaning even as they fell to the ground. Then, not saying another word, the droid silently filtered in beside Desmond and took up a ready position with his carbine, aimed at any possible threat, keeping his scanners a whir of busy action to court the surrounding details and layouts.

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Desmond smiled as he left the droid behind. There was a reason he normally decided to visit such places in person. Sometimes a remote access just didn't work. He had been trying to hit this building from the moment they had landed. His quiet musing and journey through the city, only interrupted at times by increasing frustration at being unable to crack this military grade weapons facility. He had started with his normal route for hitting corporations. DNS lookups, whois, portscan, etc. It turned out that there was about 15 or 16 machines reachable via the Holonet. 2 *nix DNS servers, 4 Exchange mail server, and a couple IIS machines. These machines are all firewalled and only allow very specific traffic : http, https, DNS, SMTP. But he remembered that if one of these services is vulnerable, it can be exploited and the firewall won't be effective at blocking the attack. So his first impulse was to issue a whisker scan on the webservers to see if there's any known vulnerabilities on the web server itself, and in the cgi programs as well. The machines turned out to be pretty secure, even if they are NT boxes much to his dismay. The server even appeared to be patched up to date, and non-necessary services have been removed from IIS (such as idq requests, asp pages, default sample pages). So he couldn't can't use the directory traversal vulnerability on this one. A quick attempt to try to screw up with some invalid requests in the cgi programs failed. Though his goal was trying to see if he could provoke any unexpected results that could give him a hint. Then he simply tried to log on the customer login page, trying to see if there's any test accounts left. Nothing went.

 

So here he was doing the same old same old, breaking and entering to see what he could do. It hadn't been hard to get a floor plan of the place. It had been conveniently lifted from MandalMotors Hall which didn't have half the security of this blasted tower he was walking into. This job's set up would be easier than most. With no actually people in the building, he didn't have to do much. He simply walked in and plugged up his datapad to port. He automatically got an IP address from the internal network DHCP server. This was excellent news for him and terrible news for the company. It took him relatively no time to take control of an internal Holonet server to launch the netcat connection with full SYSTEM/NT_AUTHORITY privileges, as that s the way to roll in style. Then simultaneous he put scheduled jobs on his datapad to keep a point of entry, while going on an exploration tour of the rest of the network, stopping in a couple workstations to download some files, that were of interest at a brief glance and prepping them for the transfer to his database. He would come back later and go through the entire system, taking every top secret file he could. If only to get an edge up on the competition, or find weaknesses in existing craft. His databse, was notorious for running programs that analyzed technical equipment, broke it down on the schematics level and finding stress points and weakness. In his other life, it was very useful to have such knowledge. When one was always prepared, one could take down anything.

 

He sighed, this was proving to be less of a challenge than he had hoped. Then again let's be serious, secured networks are the exception, not the norm. He hadn't even needed to find the director of the company's office, to get the privileges he now wielded. He killed all the other users on his privilege level, kept the account open to himself, and quickly began to make the money transfer. Since money would be missing, he had no problem failing to cover up the evidence of his intrusion. After all the big red flag of money missing, would be more than enough to show he had been there. The job was finished relatively quickly, and the money dispersed into more obscene accounts.

 

The net take was ten million credits. Each one dispersed at different intervals in different accounts, through out the galaxy, as to not be suspicious, and all at once. Which would be the most suspicious part, as ten million was hard to distribute in small amount, and he would have had to have hundreds of accounts if not thousands to pull it off completely with out suspicion. The company would be able to recover, it would still be able to operate. Just the profit margin for the year was gone in the blink of an eye. That was all he cared about. He spent time after that ripping off company secrets before making the transfer off all of the stolen information to his databank. He would be setting up a program later that would consolidate all of the stolen money into one large lump sum under some false banner in a different account, for easier access. Having already claimed ownership of the armor company which was now being staffed and run, he had no interest in acquiring yet another company that was lacking in able bodied workers. So when he was finished, he disconnected and looked to the droid.

 

Raising an eyebrow he remarked. Alright droid lets see if you have any heavy lifting skills. He showed the droid the datapad with the schematics of the tower.

 

”œWe need to go down two floors to make it to their safe. Do you think you can handle this job alone while I go get this ship. OR shall I follow behind you?”

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The droid followed quietly behind the indomitable organic that had become his masterful tumor, however pleasant or unpleasant that may have sounded. The droid found himself inexorably bored however as he moved through the buildings aiming his carbine at wisps of Mandalorians that weren't there. HK-52 knew they weren't there, because his sensors weren't indicating any more than the expected signs of life on the planet, but he moved his carbine regardless, to show that he was doing something instead of just standing around, looking like a shiny bundle of useless metal. Plus, it always did anyone well to have his guard up even when the area was suspected to be clear.

 

When Desmond entered the factory HK followed suit, his metal feet making small but marginally silent clacking noises upon the still air, and was immediately amazed at how good the man's hacking skills were. Granted, the bulk of the work was probably handled by his head sized indentured servant that was now linked up to the ship merchant's server, but HK managed to keep a calm mind and not steam his servos with pointless irritation.

 

Deciding the spectator-ship wasn't worth his time though, HK continued pointing aimlessly at the motionless walls and it wasn't until HK heard Desmond speak that his attention was renewed in the immediate present.

 

”œWe need to go down two floors to make it to their safe. Do you think you can handle this job alone while I go get this ship. OR shall I follow behind you?”

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  • 2 weeks later...

A ship, with no markings and an unregistered ID Tag floated in the space above Mandalore. Robert looked out of his freshly made Kataran-III armor.

 

"Let's go make some friends." Robert looked at his friends. The six ex-soldiers walked to the hanger and grabbed gear bags. They made their way into four different star fighters and descended to the planet surface.

 

They quickly made their way down to the surface, broadcasting. "All Hail Mandalore"

 

Robert and his friends landed in a cloud of dust. They exited and saw that they had been noticed. When the dust finally settled, the onlookers saw the six monstrous beings standing in front of them. It looked like a poster for a new movie of some rugged new squad.

 

Robert smiled behind his helmet and said two words; "New Recruits."

Chameleon.png

 

 

There are worse things than rusty spoons.
No... No there isn't.
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  • 3 weeks later...

It was every kid's dream to go into a candy store, and run around amok, eating candy until their heart's content. Naturally they failed to comprehend just how bloated they would feel just within the first hour of eating non stop candy. Desmond now understood that particular bloated feeling.

 

The first heist had been against mandalmotors. He had taken a cool ten million from their profits. He had then gone so far as to catalog all of their products and works, placing them in his off base database via transmission. He had enough information about mandalorian products to last him a life time now. Strengths and weakness, future products, past products, concepts and designs, he had it all, and then some. He had even left a backdoor in case he ever needed to get in and view the information again. After all no need to make such things difficult. Then as a finishing touch to his heist of the multimillion credit company, he had ripped off their safe and the droid loaded that cash into the ship. That had easily been a pay out of another cool ten mil. Which he would no doubt bequeath to the droid and let him find a way to move that cash. It was the least he could do after all.

 

Especially since that had only been the beginning. He had been here for over a month, unabated. There had been no one to stop him from taking what ever he desired. With such lax security in place, i.e a severe lack of people. He had pretty much done what he wanted. Which included a night of binge drinking over the joy and wonder of such a place, and the utter destruction of maybe one or two buildings. He had really hoped the droid missed the action of that night. Yet after that the bone chilling feeling of a ghost town had begun to settle over him, and so he had thrown himself into his work, hitting everything he deemed of value in such a short time.

 

Naturally that meant he had fallen to taking away the mandalorian's military budget. It was the perfect target. He had days upon days to research anything he wanted, as the capital building lay wide open to him. There was none to stop him, and he spent many days and nights, pouring over the wealth of information, and writing the programs he would need to pull off such a major heist. He had ripped off a military budget before. He was familiar with the protocol, well anyone who checked his back ground would believe that. In theory he knew everything he would need to look for. What happened was when he really hit windfall. The armor company he had taken over, had been owned and operated by the same man who had once ruled this entire planet's economy. Where all the mandalorians were now, he could care less, but the military budget was still wrapped up on mandalore and so that is what he hit. Not the personal bank accounts of however many people had been on the planet.

 

It was a long and tedious process, one that took more hours to even begin than most people would every understand. Yet it was perhaps the most satisfying thing in existence, when he cracked into the budget, and was able to basically write blank checks. He had a little over 300 billion credits to work with. Which was some surprising but, made sense, as mandalorians would probably for the most part fund their own operations. No one knew where all the money went. Well no one but him anyway. His programs ran, and the money was dispersed, into all sorts of small areas both big and small, that he would be able to draw on later. It was a massive amount of money, but he was careful to cover his tracks. Using dummy corporations he had set up in the past to take up a bulk of the transfers. Then using those, to get the money to accounts he actually wanted them in. PGM, GGS, AI,GT,BI and PGVIII were places the money may have been store,d but there were a host of others. It was like an intricate spiderweb, where everything led to the middle if you were careful... well if you crisscrossed dozens of spiderwebs, and off set their centers. Some one trying to track the money could spend years lost in the money trails. Especially the ones that suddenly ended. That was always easy, just make it seem like some one had cleared out a company and left with all the money in cold hard cash, and that was that.

 

In the end, the amount of money that had been moved was staggering. It was beyond the scope for most people to understand or enjoy. Yet he had a purpose for it all. Yea, the droid was now a multimillionare, and he was was sure, some how the droid would find a way to spend it. He looked like the type of droid capable of such thoughts. He on the other hand was done with this mission.

 

It was the last night on this forsaken world, and he took one last look around before letting his eyes rest on the droid.

 

"Come on we are blasting out of here. Too much time of my life has been taken up by this forsaken rock."

 

Boarding the ship, he soon departed.

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As Desmond Nizar's ship parted for his next intrinsic criminal escapade, a large transport vessel soared into the atmosphere and touched down with only slight hesitation.

 

A large hiss-clunk! reverberated off of the few nearest buildings as landing gear thudded to the soft ground. Within moments of its operation though, the large cargo bay door was opening, hearkening the massive procession of 50 HK-52's as well as a prototype Mandalorian Iron HK-52, being drug behind the march on a stretcher.

 

As silently as they could, 25 of the 50 moved toward an indicated vein of Mandalorian iron ore, and the remainder moved toward the empty Mandalmotors factory. Their nefarious purposes still a mystery, a large bionic humanoid followed the team of 25 making their journey to the ghost of a factory.

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"Lets rock and roll boys.." Robert said to the crowd. he smiled. Their mission was underway. The packages were dropped off according to the plan. It was fairly easy becase everyone had disappeared.

 

Robert was disappointed, he as looking arond, no blood to spill. The packages wold be saved for a later day. As the crew was leaving, Robert checked every explosive placement. Each was very well hidden. Almost incapable of being detected.

 

New orders came in jst as they finished. Robert smiled. Everything was accelerating so fast. It all had to bottleneck sooner or later. And the niverse wasnt going to be the same.

 

The crew met back at the ships and left for space once again. The captain said goodbye to Mandalore, it wont be the same after the packages go off. To space....

Chameleon.png

 

 

There are worse things than rusty spoons.
No... No there isn't.
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Within moments of their delivery, the invaders made one dreadful mistake. Hiding in the woods nearby the invader's landing, was a scouting party of HK droids blending into the brush. Their Black Mesh paint made it easy to meld into the shadows and they made no movement at all. They managed to get within distance of the group as they packed up to go, but found it interesting that they were still leaving packages as they left. One package in particular was left in their stead and another, although heading in the right path, had crushed an HK-52 droid a few clicks away and was being checked out as the rest of the party scouted ahead. Now it seemed that there wasn't much scouting to do, because the incursion they had discovered wasn't making any move to attack, defend, destroy... Anything...

 

<<Duress: This is HK droid 0132, do you copy scouting team?>>

 

The scouting team of droids held still, watching the invaders clear the area in silence, waiting for the ship to finally lift off before they answered.

 

<<Response: Yes, we copy... What is your status 0132?>>

 

There was a momentary pause indicating a slight lapse of silent hesitation over the line.

 

<<Concern: Sir, the packages they delivered are large bombs. We managed to deactivate this one and by its energy readings we can pick up faint energy signals all across the area. There are about 10-20 spread out in a relatively decent are across the planet's surface ((you didn't specify so I improvised)) . This ones timer was set to about an hour or so so I can only imagine how much time we have left before the others go off.>>

 

Then the invader's plan became clear... They weren't there to do anything but destroy the planet and move on. Well we can't have that now can we.

 

<<Serious Instruction: Send orders to Malachai as well as your energy read outs and get him to send out parties of droids on speeders. the scouting party will try to get as many as it can and if you can, get to as many explosives that you can as well. If this is to be our home for a while we need to make sure it is in one piece alright?>>

 

So, within the span of an hour, the droids from the factory and a few that had been at the rich Mandalorian ore vein spread out amongst the planet in a rapid flurry of motion. There was little to be done when it came to actually deactivating them because droid 0132 had told them roughly the same algorithm that he had performed in his duties and they experimented with each bomb to make sure the process worked.

 

___________________________________________

 

After the hour of supposed freedom from explosive dismemberment, one bomb still remained tempting their inevitable destruction and minutes were ticking down while Malachai stood aside with his arms folded. The twisted maniacal scientist marveled at the capability of these strong explosives, but was also busy trying to figure ways in which to distance himself from the threat and continue his plans.

 

"I've got it!" said Malachai as he nudged a droid out of the way. Since the algorithm to deactivate the bomb was a little too lengthy for the minute or so they had left, Malachai re routed a few circuits, took a few mechanical parts from one of the nearby HK's and fashioned a propulsion mechanism, which shot the bomb rapidly into the air.

 

"From my calculations though, my mechanical friends, I think we may still have to move." stated Malachai as he began to run briskly off in one direction. A large portion of the droids followed, but one of them - along with his friend who was crawling on the ground left and right due to his missing mechanical parts - remained behind, looking into the sky as if hypnotized by the bomb as it went.

 

Then...

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

 

A huge explosion ripped through the upper atmosphere of the planet and caused a crater to form in the exact place of the gawking HK droid, rendering his entire body useless... Floating in a pile of ash.

 

After the explosion though, the HK droids went back to work as normal; a few more scouting parties of one or two more droids were going out occasionally, just in case; Malachai was working his droid designs with the ore that was already available, working on a holographic emulator big enough to simulate Mandalore's destruction - hopefully getting those terrorists off of their backs - and perfecting the beta droid he had.

 

It had been a few days since their takeover and the factory was well underway on its development towards a brighter more robotic future. The robots sent to the rich Mandalorian ore vein were having a rough time actually getting their drilling equipment to work, but on about the third day, they managed to get a substantial hole into the ground...

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  • 4 months later...

Throughout the centuries, many entities at one time or another had tried to destroy the Mando'ade city of Keldabe, the capitol city. Many had tried, and many had failed. Despite the battle-scarred urban remnants of the last incarnation of the city, the people hadn't truly left it to rot and those that would seek to loot it for its treasures and secrets. For whenever its denizens departed, being by nature a nomadic people, they had taken any valuables with them in to hiding.

 

Though their last Mand'alore had called them away, many of the verd had simply retreated to the security of the networked bunkers that ran beneath the city and had kept things running ever since the bombing of their yaim, MandalMotors, included.

 

In fact, having been left alone by the galaxy at large they had thrived.

 

Many of those that had followed their Mand'alore off-world had since returned and joined those in the bunkers, slowly beginning the rebuild of the planet and city. their spirit ever enduring. It would take much more than a few well-placed bombs to completely eradicate the Mando'ade completely.

 

In fact, the bombs had made access to the beskar vein even easier for the surviving Mando'ade to mine it.

 

---------------------------------

 

The Rangir blasted out of hyperspace, thundering towards its destination, the spinning planet of Manda'yaim it's atmosphere granting it's blue and green surface a slight halo as it came up on the veiwport. There were swaths of desert unnaturally cut into the foliage of the planet's surface, visual testimony to the endurance of both the planet and it's people.

 

As Mirdala keyed in the sequences to land using the codes that Fett had given her let the people know that their Mand'alore had returned to the homeworld.

 

As they approached the city-proper, Mirdala's senses were driving her crazy. Something wasn't right, and the Force was letting her know it. A surge of anger flared in Mirdala's heart as the visuals became more detailed and the city's wanton destruction apparent to the two verd.

 

"Tion'ru gotal ibic haran?" she quietly exclaimed in shock of the extent of the damage, hardly believing that the Mando'ade residing on the planet had left little sign. She looked back at Fett from the pilot's seat.

 

She set the ship down in what once was a thriving spaceport, her eyes meeting Fett's T-section as they regarded one another, each silently pondering the situation, keeping their thoughts their own as the privately assessed the situation before reading to leave the ship.

 

Mirdala's face was a careful mask of unreadable emotion as she armed herself with a pair of sidearm blasters of Mando'ad make, a specially scaled-down Ripper that threw slugs with just as much power, and finally an assault rifle. It didn't take a fool to see that the damage to the city had been recent and being Mando'adp, Mirdala was not about to take any chances.

 

She set the assault rifle on the table for a moment while she put on her buy'ce, her implant's uplink connecting with the beskar'gam's systems in an instant. Seeing the capitol city this was putting her on edge, but while they were here she did have business to attend to as well.

 

During their hyperspace journey, she'd stripped Tracyn's buy'ce all of the electrical systems and modifications, leaving just the shell. It was the proof that would be required in order to fully settle Tracyn's affairs, bringing closure to the entire affair. Now she placed the stripped shell of a buy'ce in to her satchel and picked up the assault rifle.

 

"Somehow, this isn't what I was expecting to see on my first visit to our homeworld," she said sardonically.

fMZZcER.png

Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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Mand'alor had returned to Manda'yaim, but he was not pleased with what he saw. He had been aware of Vihk Ahzinger's call to ba'slan shev'la after he angered the New Republic, but he also knew that the Republic hadn't bombed Keldabe. No, this was more likely the work of the Galactic Empire and, unfortunately, likely a result of Fett's own intervention in the previous Mand'alor's betrayal of that Empire.

 

But he was not responsible for this. Ahzinger proved once again how much damage he could do in just a short time with the responsibilities of the title. Seeing parts of the city ruined inspired something in Fett. He wasn't yet ready to be the full-time leader of Manda'yaim and his people, but he was certainly in position to start righting the wrongs that the Mando'ade had suffered under irresponsible leaders.

 

Still, as bad as it looked, Fett thought the Empire's attempt almost laughable to extinguish the Mando'ade or even their city. Everything important was reinforced with beskar, and he knew from his youth a few more things about Keldabe. "Not as bad as it looks," he said to Mirdala. "It'll take a shab of a lot more than that. 2277, drop her an update."

 

Obediently, 2277 transmitted a map of the city to Mirdala's buy'ce. It quickly pointed out much of what Fett had surmised--how important structures seemed untouched as well as the network of tunnels that made sure the Mando'ade were invincible. "No enemy can prevail here," Fett added. "City's not empty, either. Follow me."

 

Old memories came rushing back to Fett. He hadn't been here in two decades, but no amount of time was long enough. He was headed straight for the hub of the Mandalorian government. It was almost a joke, since the Mando'ade had no government, which made sure that the structure was still standing. There was one place where everything in the galaxy that mattered to his people took place. It was like the whole universe in one... tapcafe.

 

Mand'alor stepped into the Oyu'baat and headed straight for the bar, where he found a dusty old radio. It was about the lowest-tech thing you could find, but it was incredibly reliable. That was mandokarla. He hit a couple of buttons, then fought down the unease as he was about to make his first act under his title.

 

"This is Mand'alor. It's time to come back to Manda'yaim. Return to your homes." Fett shut off the comm and turned back to Mirdala. "That should do it."

 

Sure enough, even as he finished, the city started to return to life.

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Mirdala wisely slung her weapon as she followed Fett out, taking the time to silently study the city's layout so that she would be familiar with it, even after it had been rebuilt.

 

Mirdala's footing was a little unsteady as she tried to navigate the rubble strewn city. "I've only ever been on Shogun and the less settled areas of Concord Dawn, I've never seen our people build on this scale before."

 

The pair headed towards the partially ruined MandalMotors Tower, that still mostly stood in the face of the violence that had been unleashed upon it's surface so recently.

 

Others began to stir, cautiously peeping out, some with rifle barrels leading, some with ade in tow, most clad in beskar'gam due to the recent activities on the planet, even the older ade, those of age to be verd'ika bore arms.

 

"Who do you think the demagolka responsible for this is?" Mirdala said through their mutual interface. It railed against her very being that anyone for any reason should attack the neverd, though in a culture such as the Mando'ade it was often difficult to tell who could truly be called a neverd, there were so few.

 

She knelt next to what looked to be one of the many flash points around the area, using her implant to determine a chemical analysis and scan for remnants of the bomb to determine the type. Though this hadn't been her home, it was still an important place to her people and she would do her best to determine the culprit.

 

Mirdala took some samples of the durasteel that didn't match up with the make up of the rest of the rubble, pinning it as being out of place. She made sure that she was recording everything in buy'ce data system for transfer to her ship's main computer, at the same time sharing the findings with her counterpart. "What do you think?"

Edited by Guest

fMZZcER.png

Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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OOC: Still not sure what really happened here, but I think we're all interested in the Mandalorians pulling through almost like nothing happened. That's no problem whether the city was bombed or not. And there's no need for you to get defensive about what my character thinks about you.

 

IC:

"Empire," Fett answered. "Retaliation for Ahzinger's betrayal on Triple Zero, no doubt." Through the Augury, he would know if it were the Republic, and there was no reason for anyone else to do it. Especially since the aruetiise didn't know he was Mand'alor. Nonetheless, it had already started to happen, that which he had feared--his actions, his enemies, had started to hurt his people. The Mando'ade were invincible, but Keldabe hadn't been attacked in a long time, so he had brought grief they hadn't had before.

 

Presently, though, the city was waking up. Ori'ramikade were coming out of holes, and already some were starting to enter the Oyu'baat. One of them, wearing a green beskar'gam, approached Fett. "You're Mand'alor, right?"

 

Fett nodded. "Everyone knows?"

 

The other Mando'ad nodded in return. "The verde that came back from Coruscant spread the word here, Fett."

 

"Fine," he answered. "I'm not here for long. Rebuilding can start. And I need to find MandalMotors."

 

The other shrugged. "Under their old tower. I think they have a hangar full of ships on Concordia, too."

 

Concordia was Manda'yaim's moon. Seemed like a pretty good place to keep a bunch of ships, particularly if they needed to drive away an attacking force. Fett turned back to Mirdala. "Anything you want to do here, vod?"

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Mirdala frowned at his assessment. "Hut'uunla bal dar'ijaa," was her only remark. Apparently the Empire still failed to learn from the mistakes of it's past. Her HUD recognized the presence of beskar-clad beings headed their direction, her hand instinctively going for her holster, but relaxing as she recognized the stranger as being Mando'ad.

 

From Fett's reaction, she could tell that he wasn't entirely comfortable with the Mantle, but was still willing to bear the responsibility.

 

"Just one," she'd already pulled up the commerce section city schematics and had located the banking institution she needed. "I just need to transfer Tracyn's accounts to mine, and I'm done here." The young woman paused, unsure if she wanted Fett to come along, but he'd put his trust in her so it was time that she returned the favor, even if it was simply settling a personal matter. "You're welcome to come along if you like," she offered as she adjusted the satchel containing Tracyn's buy'ce on her shoulder.

 

She wasn't sure what it was that had her on edge, despite being on the homeworld in a city whose very name meant "fortress" among her own people. Mirdala was glad that she was armed with more than just her customary kukris.

 

Mirdala headed out towards her destination, entering a section of the city where the damage was considerably less than the section they'd first entered, only a few windows having been blown out, if any at all.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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ShadowFett's appearance remained totally passive under his buy'ce. "I'll let you handle your personal matters. We can link up again when you're done," he answered. He watched her leave and tried to decide how he felt about splitting up because it didn't feel normal this time. He puzzled over it for a moment, then shrugged and left the Oyu'baat, heading back for MandalMotors. He had always been most efficient when he was alone, and it didn't make him think about who he was all the time. Maybe I just have about the social skills of a child, he thought.

 

The walk was short, since they'd passed it on the way in. He walked through the dusty doorframe--everything was dusty on Manda'yaim--and found someone had already moved up into the lobby.

 

"Su'cuy, Mand'alor," that person greeted him. "What can I do for you?"

 

"I need a ship," he answered plainly.

 

The other Mando'ad smiled--he wasn't wearing a buy'ce, but of course had the rest of his beskar'gam on. "I'd be happy to accomodate you. You thinking about a fighter like the Bes'uliik? No, probably something bigger."

 

"Have a Pursuer?" Fett asked.

 

The other nodded, but then shook his head. "We can do better than that for Mand'alor. Any aruetii can buy a Pursuer. You plan to have enough crew for a Tra'kad?"

 

"Nayc, but can it be automated with beskar'ade?" he asked.

 

The man pondered. "Theoretically, but you'd lose a lot of the manual operation when without power. Still better than a Pursuer, though. Let's head downstairs and take a look."

 

Mand'alor nodded and followed the man into a turbolift, which took them down two floors into a huge open space full of vessels from the distinctive StarVipers to the different models of Bes'uliike--those for export and for "home defense". Fett knew of the Tra'kad only by reputation, but as soon as he saw one, he raised an eyebrow under his buy'ce. It looked like a kriffing tank, but it was only 20 meters long, about the size the Redawn had been. "What's it going to take to stop her?"

 

Another smile from his guide. "She has full beskar plating, so she's conventionally indestructible."

 

Fett nodded. "I'm going to need some special security features...."

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Mirdala nodded curtly as she explored the city on her own, finally locating the bank and paused, realizing that her armaments might well draw some suspicion, especially considering the planet's more recent guests.

 

She slid her buy'ce off, breathing in the unfiltered air of her riduur's natal home. In a way she felt him with her, even now as she was stepping out on her own once again. Well, not completely alone, she remarked to herself as she thought of her traat'aliit'ad.

 

Several curious glances were cast her way, though kept in custom casual Mando'adefashion. Many that had remained on the planet knew each other, and Mirdala's style of beskar'gam was slightly more exotic with her longer vest, more common to the stylings of the Mando'ade on Shogun.

 

She was left alone ,though, as she entered the financial database branch and asked to see one of the bank staff. While she waited as they brought their systems back on line, she pulled Tracyn's golden buy'ce out of her satchel, setting it on the seat beside her own.

 

"Mrs. Ad'Groan?" a beskar'gam-clad banker greeted her, casting a wary look at the dismantled buy'ce. Tracyn Galaar had left him with very specific instructions on how to handle his assets should his widow come to claim them. "You know I'll need the buy'ce and the password."

 

Mirdala sighed, remembering the conversation her and Tracyn had many nights ago just before she'd left for her time with the Augury. Her heart pained in remembrance of what had been lost to her, though no trace of it crossed her delicate features. She opened her hand to reveal the small coded disk that they had each concealed in one another's buy'ce, and slid it into the slot of the data reader that was hooked to what was left of a basic HUD display, and an image of a pair of crossed kukris became visible to the banker who relayed what he was seeing. He paused waiting for her answer, confirming that the set in the image matched the set she wore even now on her hips.

 

Mirdala was quiet for a moment before she responded, her voice carefully measured,"Cin'ciri."

 

In Mando'a, the name meant "snow", and had been the name the couple would have used if their first ad'ika had been a dala'ika.

 

Unaware of the knife twisting in his client's heart, the banker entered the word, looking up when he was prompted for the second level of security, his gaze meeting Mirdala's even expression. "The second?" he intoned.

 

It was all Mirdala could do to keep her face unreadable and her voice steady, "Cuyan Skirata". The name of a jagyc'ika that would never be born due to the brutality of Black Sun and her aliit.

 

"Vor'e, the funds should be available shortly," he responded, handing Tracyn's buy'ce to her, and leaving her to her thoughts.

 

Mirdala placed the buy'ce back in her pack, replaced her own on her head, and left silently her business completed.

 

As she left the bank, her mind was distant, and as though her entire being were mourning the loss of the ad she would never bear, she could feel imaginary phantom flutterings of a child that would never be beneath her beskaryc abdomen. It was pure anguish, and she was glad for the privacy that her buy'ce afforded her.

 

She walked a little further, content to accept the pain for the moment, but as she approached MandalMotors, she locked it way. Mirdala was verd, ori'ramikad, and Mando'ad, and had a strength in her most people could only dream of. That chapter of her life had ended, and now she was striking out once more, a fresh page before her and she was not about to leave it unmarred.

 

She caught up easily with Fett, who was busy with one of the companies representatives, the two working out the details of the new ship.

 

Tank would be a more apt description, she thought to herself as she looked at some of the other, sleeker vessels.

 

Her ears perked up at the mention of the ship's beskar plating and quickly called up the schematics of her own ship on her HUD as something to redirect her mind's focus from the walk here. "I wonder if the same plating could be applied to the Rangir," she transmitted to Fett. It'd been a while since the Rangir had had a major refit, and now was as good a time as any to do so.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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ShadowFett was finishing discussing the security measures he wanted when Mirdala joined them. Ray shields and prison cells that could hold dar'jetiise and non-Force users alike. Internal scanners that would identify everyone aboard and deploy ray shields as necessary. The ability to lock down all systems and computer access points from the cockpit or from a link to his buy'ce. Other compatability with his buy'ce.

 

The other Mando'ad simply listened and made notes. Fett wasn't sure if it was because the custom order would make him extra commission or if it was because he was Mand'alor, but either way it was helpful. He then moved on to the interfaces. He wanted one or two good beskar'ade to be able to use all the weapons and fill any crew spot that Fett wasn't using manually. This included 2277 being able to fly the ship by himself. The Tra'kad was a pretty low-tech vessel, so this would require some work. Fett glanced at Mirdala. "As long as the interfaces are there, we should be able to handle the automation ourselves," he said to the MandalMotors rep.

 

"As you wish, Mand'alor," came the dutiful response.

 

"That'll be all. Let's talk time and price," Fett continued.

 

"It'll take a couple days to get everything modified. As for credits--this one's on MandalMotors. It's the least we can do for Mand'alor."

 

Fett frowned under his buy'ce. "I don't think--"

 

"But I do," the other interrupted. "Now, is there anything else I can do for you?"

 

Moon Knight glanced at Mirdala again. "My associate has a Firespray-class. Would it be possible to reinforce the armor with beskar?"

 

The man thought. "Tricky, and it will take a few days, but I think we can make it happen. Might have to charge for this one, too."

 

Fett turned back to Mirdala. "Your call, vod. Looks like we're stuck here for a few days anyway."

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Mirdala looked at the MandalMotors representative, and nodded, the extra durability would be good for the ship, "That's not a problem, I've got the credits, if you don't mind the extra hands periodically on either ship," she replied, glad for something to keep her busy over the next few days.

 

"My business is otherwise done here," she communicated through their private channel. "I'd be glad to get my hands dirty for a while." Fett could almost picture her smile, even from behind the buy'ce.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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"Best get started," Fett told the MandalMotors representative. He turned his body slightly to be clear he was addressing both that Mando'ad and Mirdala before continuing. "I won't be of much help here, but feel free to put my beskar'ad 2277 to work. I'll be in the city. Feel free to keep me updated on your progress." He handed the man a slip of flimsy with his comm information scrawled on it. Then Mand'alor nodded to Mirdala and left via the turbolift on which he had arrived.

 

Stepping out into the daylight again a minute later, Mand'alor started to walk down the main Keldabe street. It was bustling compared to how it had been when he'd entered the Oyu'baat, and everywhere he could hear Mando'ade greeting each other by name, conversing in Mando'a. Many of them were looking forward to uniting with their aliite as they trickled back on-world. He didn't hear anything about the end of the aruetyc war that had caused all of this, but that was typical for his people. It didn't matter what happened in the galaxy, only what happened here.

 

It had been too long since Fett had walked here, and now he found it almost intoxicating. Part of him wanted to make up for all the time he had spent away, but when he examined that desire practically, he saw that it was illogical. He had no aliit, nowhere to settle. And it wasn't just that. He was Moon Knight, and therefore he fought evil. Even if he wasn't Moon Knight, would he really consider giving up his pursuit of perfection in combat, that thing that had defined him for years? No. Settling down was something he would only do when he was old, and he intended to die in battle before that day. It was his destiny to fight.

 

I've already wasted too much time, he realized. Sitting and talking with Mirdala, roaming the streets of Keldabe--these things had made him complacent, content with ease and delay. These were not his beliefs. Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore. It was a saying in the very language that was spoken here, in this place that had deceived him into being content with less than his own standards. He knew it was a critical outlook to take, and that many Mando'ade obviously lived here without compromising, but it wasn't where he was right now.

 

Fett turned down a sidestreet and quickly found a training facility. They were pretty common in a city where every inhabitant learned how to fight when they were children. He needed something physical, and a few minutes later he was holding a beskad and starting to rigorously strike a thick target, for now defenseless....

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"Will do," she promised as she watched him leave, knowing that this period of inactivity wouldn't be wasted with him. He was too much like her and needed to be in constant movement, bettering themselves at something. It was a trait common among the Mando'ade, but one that she prized nevertheless.

 

She removed her armaments, and beskar'gam laying them off to the side out of the way so she was left in her jump suit, the rigid parts of her beskar'gam removed so she could easily squeese into the nooks and crannies that would be needed in order to automate Fett's ship. "Where are your electrical tools?" she asked and was quickly presented with a very well stocked kit perfectly suited for her needs.

 

Eager to get to work and turn her emotional energy towards something constructive, Mirdala unzipped the top half of the jumpsuit and tied the sleeves around her waist, exposing the black tank she wore under the flight suit. "Come on 22." she said, the droid following her to where several mechanics, techs and engineers swarmed the Mand'alore's ship.

 

Off the docking bay of the ship hanger, the Rangir landed and powered down, some of the techs looking curiously as there was no droid or pilot at the helm, but began working on it anyway.

 

Several hours later, Mirdala had completed the system mapping and was coordinating the interface with 2277. "22. how's it reading you your end?"

 

Nothing yet, but it appears to be pushing through, you're sure once the connections are established the lag problem will be abaited?

 

"Elek, but let me tweak a few things to optimize the uplink and receiving speed."

 

Roger. Connection has been established.

 

"Congrats 22, you just became a buir!" Mirdala was pleased that what she'd explained to Fett as a parent/child interface for the ships automation had established it's first connection and she'd done so with minimal impact to loss of functionality, and she transmitted the good news to Fett via his comm. Knowing him, he was somewhere likely training. She smiled to herself, all that verd did was train. It was what he'd done on Enigma, and she imagined what he'd done when he hadn't been engaging the Empire during the Death Star battle. If he wasn't fighting in one arena, the other was there and waiting.

 

Curiously though, he'd allowed her to see another side of him, one that had enabled them to form a traat'aliit, and in so doing, helped her a great deal as well. His support was helping her get past Tracyn's murder. For that she owed him a lot, which is why she was working on making his ship operable with a minimal crew.

 

She wondered if he'd ever let anyone in as much as he had her before. He mentioned that he had no aliit before, and now, neither did she. Was that what had bonded them so?

 

It took the second time for 22's com to reach her before she returned to her task. "Sorry, thinking about other things. Go again?"

 

I am somewhat confused by you saying that I just had a child when no such thing occured.

 

Mirdala shook her head, beskar'ad could be so literal sometimes and this particular droid wasn't yet used to her mannerisms. Still, there was amusement in her voice as she responded, "With the link successfuly established you can delegate one of your subunits to directly man this station. The subunit 22 would the the child."

 

I see

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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Jaraht's shuttle swooped in over the surface of the Mandalorian planet and broadcast it's presence to the settlements below in order to gain clearance.

 

The ship was registered under the name Raynor and the model was ambiguous because it wasn't for the purposes of assault or defense, merely transportation.

 

Jaraht spoke to the appropriate authorities in Mando'ad as Vihk prepped in the back, trying to do simple exercises and warm-up his muscles.

 

They still remained above the surface though, trying to and making sure they checked in before they landed.

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ShadowFett had moved past his warmup phase, starting to get a real feel for the beskad. It was a fine weapon, a heavy saber made of the signature beskar the Mando'ade relied upon for so much. Its weight let it deliver strokes more powerful than his phrik vibroblade did, and certainly they had more substance than what a jetii'kad could deliver. He decided immediately to put his phrik vibroblade away in favor of this weapon--the weapon of a Mando'ad was the most suitable weapon for Mand'alor.

 

He was starting to engage beskar-plated droids that could take his hits and stay on their feet before Mirdala pinged him with the update on his new ship. "Ori'jate," he responded quickly as he ducked a potentially-lethal saber blow and delivered a rapid counterattack. He relished the burn of his muscles as he did so, for the pain meant he was getting stronger. Stronger, faster, smarter, he thought, dancing away from a strike more nimbly than most clad in a suit of iron could. But to him, it was not an iron suit, it was a second skin--the word beskar'gam literally translated to "iron skin".

 

It did not hamper him. But when the next sword stroke came in, he blocked it on his gauntlet, then used his superior position to deliver a punch with his palm that could break ribs, then spun away to face his next target, already identified through his buy'ce and its 360-degree vision. He rose his beskad in a block, then kicked at the droid's knee, toppling it.

 

The area was now clear. Droids are like vornskrs, Moon Knight thought. Once you fight so many, they stop surprising you. I can train my body, but I'm not learning anything. Fett had often found it amusing how many times he'd been to Myrkr to harvest ysalamiri. For the Black Sun multiple times, for his own purposes--even for the Link. He'd fought plenty of vornskrs, but they were all the same--just animals.

 

He commed Mirdala through their private link. "If you're looking for a break, vod, come find me. I could use someone to spar."

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The shuttle landed and the door opened silently, letting in the bracing air of the Manda'yaim midday.

 

It filled Vihk with not only the feeling of regret that had plagued him sense his death, but a contradictory feeling of warmth. He had felt his heart beating heavily for the first time as his body began to sweat slightly under the pressure of his stress as he rode here, but something in the wind touched his mind as he set foot on the soft grass.

 

I am home... However bittersweet it might be.

 

They had flown over the capital city to see a portion of it in ruins, to Vihk's further dismay. It was all hard to process, but Vihk swallowed what little shame he had left, to hopefully show them how he felt without sign of weakness in his words. The Mandalorians were a strong people, that thrived on strength of mind and body. It didn't mean they had no emotions, but their dispositions weren't tuned to the weak.

 

Even children were trained and taught how to fight from the time they could stand to carry a weapon.

 

Discipline, Honor, Pride, Strength...

 

Four Mandalorian themes that had fallen from Vihk's shoulders in the time he'd been exposed to his corruptibility and the hazardous nature to which bonds can be writ and broken.

 

Still, with Jaraht at his side, his friend in full beskar'gam and Vihk sporting casual garb, Vihk took his place at the gates and walked in. He had no idea what to expect and upon the threshold of the opened gate, had a brief moment of reconsideration. Jaraht was there for him though, he felt the weakness in his friend's stance and pushed him through the gate to... Silence.

 

There were people roaming about and doing their own things to further their own lives, so no one really seemed to notice the resemblance that Vihk bore to his older self. The former Mandalore looked about for a few moments and saw the uncertainty in their eyes. Even the guards, clad in their beskar, didn't seem to recognize him.

 

How am I supposed to apologize for my crimes if no one can recognize who I am.

 

Vihk's thoughts echoed in the silent emptiness of discarded recognition and despite his weaker thoughts, Vihk pushed his way into the city and see if anyone would recognize him.

 

He managed to find a few soldiers that had served with him in the war of the Spire, but they walked past him like he wasn't even there. Invisible...

 

Well I might as well do something around here. I feel a bit out of my element.

 

Not to mention, I haven't actually participated in any sort of battle since my re-awakening, so while no one seems to acknowledge my existence, maybe I can enjoy the throws of Mandalorian life before I pledge myself to the will of my people.

 

I know! Battle Circle!

 

Jaraht could tell Vihk's pattern of thinking even more than he could and told the former Mandalore that he was going to visit his family on the outskirts of town.

 

So Vihk ran off to find the nearest Battle Circle or arena he could find and stood on the sidelines. He watched as other Mandos clashed in full beskar and saw the ferocity of every body movement in and out of the ring. He had to grab some pieces of loaner beskar because he didn't have a full suit anymore, but he was ready when his turn came up.

 

He looked over at the Mandalorian officer that was watching over the sport and nodded his head in affirmation as he stepped onto the ring and fastened his arms and legs into position like he'd been doing it his entire life.

 

Vihk's temperament immediately picked up as his blood burned and his muscles tensed with excitement.

 

He could see the other Mandalorian on the other side equally as focused and in three... more... secon...

 

GO!

 

Vihk's renewed body responded even more than his old one had. Due to his previous warm-up he was limber enough to move, but he hadn't expected what the results would be when he actually put his moves into execution. Now that he was on the ring and his arms and legs moved like the currents of a river at his every command, he could feel his confidence building again.

 

One blow to the chest and a half spin to a blow on the side was enough to bring down the lumbering Mandalorian that came at him.

 

He felt a resounding friction on his joints at each punch that wasn't there before, but the pounding of his arms didn't implement much stress as far as his mind was concerned; a mind that was caught up in the thrill of the moment.

 

The next opponent pushed through to the ring and although this one was a bit more capable, Vihk still managed to pull through, getting a few jabs to the side and experiencing a new pain, that was once again shelved int he back of his mind.

 

It was only with the third opponent that the fight was drawn. The Mandalorian opposing him took two steps and barely moved to one side, before Vihk took advantage of what seemed like a juke. However, the other Mandalorian came by with a blow at Vihk's head that managed to rattle his thoughts and mind, drawing his feet into a blurry haze. If it weren't for the next move at Vihk's chest he probably would've been out for the whole fight.

 

The ultimate conclusion of the battle though, rested on a draw and Vihk leaning, worse for wear, on the side of a building with a big grin plastered on his face. He could feel what appeared to be a broken rib and a mild concussion as well as a few bruises, but he didn't care. The pain to his body seemed like a new thing, but his mind was all too familiar with the experience.

 

Okay *cringe* I really needed that...

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Mirdala stretched as she slid out from under the computer terminal on the sled. She was getting a bit stiff from all the maintenance work and hadn't really taken any breaks. The young woman could almost sense Fett's restlessness and she supposed he'd been fighting training droids. She mentally cringed slightly remembering how borderline self-destructive she'd been following the news of Tracyn's death, the bruise on her face was still just barely visible. It was a good thing she was a quick healer.

 

Still, a bit of sparring would be a nice change of pace and a quick look at the data logs showed her that everything was going along fine. 2277 could handle some of the additional setup that was needed, she just verify it and many any needed adjustments when she returned.

 

"Oya!" she responded enthusiastically. Fett had indicated his spot on the city's readout so once she donned her beskargam once more, leaving all but her blasters and kukri's on the Rangir, she made her way through the winding and narrow streets of Keldabe to meet her traat'aliit'ad.

 

It didn't surprise her to see him waiting for her. "Things are syncing up nicely and they've started replating the Rangir's hull." She updated as she removed her buy'ce, remembering with some amusement how one of the lead technical engineers first stood dumbfounded at her work and then kept dropping hints for her to stay on with them. Had she actually been at a different point in her life, and Tracyn still alive, she might have considered it. Tech issues presented a different challenge than the physical one she was about to engage in. The brain was a muscle as well and one she loved to exercise with complex computing and technical problems. Her slight smile betrayed her mood as she unholstered her blasters, leaving only her kukris, her hands, feet and wits for defense.

 

She wasn't loosing anything other than the protection afforded by the buy'ce itself, her implant was equipped with every feature it had, including the three-sixty vision. She trusted Fett's skills and hers enough to stop before lopping off before causing any real damage to the other. This was a sparring match, after all. Their first ever actually, and considering that a little more than a foot separated them in height, this was sure to be interesting for them both.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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Ori'jate, ShadowFett thought when Mirdala came in. She had a gift for technical matters, but her blood was that of a Mando'ad, and there was no sense denying the inner urge for testing oneself, improving through combat. One Mando'ad could be a jeweler, one could be a physician, and another could be a banker, but all of them were verde. It was just one more critical piece of their racial identity, one more tie that bound them all into almost one existence, unified as a race even if they had no central government or even one place they could all call home.

 

"Excellent progress," he commended her and, apostrophetically, the Mando'ade working for MandalMotors.

 

Fett disarmed when Mirdala did, keeping his buy'ce but putting aside all of his besbe'trayce save the beskad with which he had been training. He was already pysching himself up for the spar, for, between two Mando'ade, it was a form of true expression and, when weapons were deadly, trust. He could learn more about her by how she fought than he had with all of their discussion so far, and if she was going to be watching his back in combat, that was absolutely necessary.

 

"Ready?" He raised the beskad now before him and watched Mirdala set herself. He noted that she was carrying kukris, which were considerably shorter than his blade. That probably meant she was going to try to outmaneuver him. She was about a foot and a half shorter than him, which would be important. It gave him a substantial advantage in reach as well as some of the advantages that came with having higher ground--specifically that it would give him more power in downward strokes toward her kovid. He would have to be careful not to press these advantages too early lest he actually injure the dala--right now, he wasn't sure of the extent of her skill.

 

Then he began. Mand'alor started with the perhaps expected downward strike, calling much of his strength and utilizing the weight of the beskad, but he quickly spun the strike horizontal, then swept it back across his body, a move that would limit her ability to evade while still being close enough to counterattack.

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Mirdala's smile widened further as she nodded taking up her guard. What she lacked in reach she more than made up for in speed and balance, tactics she knew he would be expecting as she met his blade with hers as she deflected the blow and jumped back instantly as she sensed the beskad's change in momentum. She used the action to step around behind the sword, coming in to take advantage of the gap in Fett's defenses and deflecting the next blow as he came back again.

 

She was fearless and unafraid to get in close with her opponent. Most that had fought her figured she'd solely rely on her speed to outmaneuver them, often believing that she would allow them room to actually work. When the situation called for it and it was to her advantage, she relished the opportunity to surprise those that underestimated her. She knew that this wasn't the case with Fett, it was only natural that they test each other's abilities. It was the only way that they would grow together to be truly effective as a traat'aliit

 

As she went on the offensive, she tapped the side of his buy'ce despite the fact that if this had really been a fight between the two, the strike would have had little effect against the protection afforded him. Still, she made her point as she completed the circle, pivoting on her right foot leading the next strike with her left hand as she ducked under his blade. She came up and took a step to Fett's left then followed with her other foot, placing her heel against his as she pressed in against him, twisting her torso to lend the right amount of torque to try to knock him off balance.

 

She was just as quick to press the advantage as he regained his balance, lunging with her right hand aiming at his neck, the tip stopping just before it made contact with the gap between his buy'ce and beskar'gam.

 

Her grin was almost impish now that her blood was pumping. She felt alive again; feelings of happiness flooding back and a feeling of having purpose again. It was exhilarating.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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I did indeed underestimate her. A happy mistake, ShadowFett thought as Mirdala twisted around him in close-quarters, inside his outer and middle rings of defense, where he would have the advantage. She even managed to get her knife up to the seam between his buy'ce and chest plate, but she doubtlessly noted he had a neck guard--in an all-out match, he would be uninjured. Still, the beskad was actually too long to deal with the tactics she was using against him, and so he would have to get back to an advantageous position. She was fearless in getting close to him, but if he picked up his pace, he could start using his strength advantage.

 

And Fett was not slow. Snapping his mind into sharp focus, he whirled and struck. Mirdala was too close to jump away, so he had to take the blow on her kukris. Mand'alor immediately struck with his knee, planting it on her beskar'gam and shoving her back a step--she weighed only about forty-five kilos, so he had twice her mass. He was a man that worked hard every day of his life, and his mass was muscle, plated with beskar and controlled with discipline. He had been fighting over a decade longer than she had, and now he would not underestimate her. And that was just as a Mando'ad. He had a hundred years of combat experience through the eyes of a Blademaster using a caelestrum in addition to the experiences of the two other previous Moon Knights.

 

His beskad flashed, a flurry of attacks keeping her at range. For the attacks she parried, she had to deal with his strength. For the ones she dodged, he continued the blade's motion naturally, building its momentum for the next blow. Once, she dodged an attack and leapt at him in its wake, slashing from his left with a kukri. He raised his left kom'rk, snapping out its jagged climbing spikes with a silent command. The knife caught on the spikes, then he jabbed a left hook down at her kovid. Her grip was tested against the strength of his jab and he won--mostly. The kukri was twisted out of her grip by the spikes, but she deflected the jab to her shoulder. Still, she was thoroughly out of position for a moment, and he dropped, sweeping her feet with his left leg and dropping her on the dirt ground next to her weapon.

 

He backed off a step, waiting for her to get back up, already having started to improvise. This was where he was strongest. He could do so much with just his beskar'gam and his brain. His body, strong from decades of discipline, was just a vessel.

 

OOC: Now that we've found something of a rhythm by establishing our styles, we can go ahead with what you suggested.

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