Mandalore

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala tucked as she went down, rolling backwards in a somersault, allowing the momentum to bring her to her feet. She did her best to hide her wince; her ribs hadn't fully healed yet from her prior "training" session and Fett's knee connecting with her armor gave her a sharp reminder of that fact as her free hand instinctively went to the injured area for a moment. She also knew that he'd adapted to her tactics as fewer of her blows made it through his tightening defenses. Don't forget that he's not just relying on his own experiences, remember that you're dealing with Moon Knight and their combined experiences.

 

It was time to change tactics, and her roll had brought her near to the weapons rack in the training room, and being the resourceful Mando'ad that she was, she quickly grabbed  a naginata from the rack which greatly extended her reach. It was a weapon that she was familiar with from her childhood and early teen years on Shougun. It was now time to shift her reliance from her close-combat expertise to her sniper sensibilities. 

 

She squared off with him again this time remaining on her guard as she watched him and wait for gaps in his defenses, not hesitating to strike out when they presented themselves.

 

Then it was his turn to work his way within her defenses, and so he did, forcing Mirdala to utilize the weapon for extra leverage to counter her lack of strength in order to work him to a position where she was able to strike at him once more. 

 

She knew the weapon well, and utilized it masterfully as an extension of herself, her own defense tightening as Fett continued his advance. 

 

At one point he'd grabbed the shaft of the weapon, attempting twist it from her grasp; she tightened her grip and twisted with it, narrowly dodging a strike with his beskad that glanced her beskar'gam. She used the momentum to wrench it free from his grasp as they squared up once more. 

 

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

 

Back at MandalMotors, work continued to progress on both of the two ships being over seen by 2277.

[Moon Knight]

As Mand'alor and Mirdala fought, they started to fall into a rhythm. Mirdala was quick on her feet, always half a step ahead of Fett's solid progression of strikes. When she could, she would dart in for a lightning-fast assualt, and Fett would improvise in close-quarters, using his beskar'gam to deflect some blows, his repulsor pack to reposition himself and/or his attacker, and his strength to drive her back.

 

In this way they continued at first for minutes, and then the minutes stretched into an hour and still they fought. Over that time, both managed to score solid hits on the beskar plating of the other, and they experienced an almost unity of mind. Each began to predict what the other would do, and the other would predict how they would respond with that in mind. Soon, each Mando'ad could barely distinguish his or her thoughts from the other's, since every moment was spent viewing the battlefield from the other's perspective and responding accordingly.

 

At one point, ShadowFett managed to extract himself just enough to think, Now this is the challenge I sought--the one the beskar'ade could not offer me.

 

----

 

Meanwhile, the work on Fett's Tra'kad was coming along nicely. 2277 was running algorithms to integrate himself with the vessel. It would take time, but the beskar'ad was powerful, modified over the years to be more than the task's equal.

 

The plating was also something that would take time, as the Mando'ade working on it would have to meticulously cast and carve metal plates from beskar and weld them to the Rangir's existing plating.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala wiped the sweat from her brow as the two took a break from their sparring session. Never before had Mirdala been so challenged and hard pressed to keep up a pace nor try to outmaneuver her opponent. It was exhilarating. The old Mando'ad adage of Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore. was brought to her mind, and she couldn't help smiling despite the ache in her side from the exertion of her still-tender ribs.

"I don't know when I last had a sparring match that," she paused, searching for the word, "productive. I can now see what you mean about the power of Moon Knight. In the hands of one of our own, it's very difficult to counter."

 

She paused, admiring one of the hits she'd been particularly proud she'd been able to counter. "I have indeed learned a bit from our bout and it has actually given me an idea for an addition to my own beskar'gam." She held up the naginata, her own knowledge of engineering and construction of beskar'gam running riot in her own mind as she shared what she was envisioning with her traat'aliit'ad.

 

In Fett's HUD a concept of a collapsing form of the weapon done in beskar and housed within her thigh armor. It would be slightly scaled down on the shaft end, but it would serve it's purpose well. She just needed to forge it first. It was a good thing she was an ad'goran and had actually paid attention when her buir was working in his forge.

 

The two sat in comfortable silence for a time, each internalizing what new information they'd gained from the match before Mirdala broke it as she spoke through their interface. "You mentioned that you were without aliit, as I am now, may I ask what happened?" Her question was earnest, though prodded by her own natural curiosity. She knew what motivated the man as Moon Knight, but she wanted to know more about him as a Mando'ad.

[Moon Knight]

OOC: Nice sig.

 

IC:

ShadowFett accepted the wordless proposition for a break. He could fight for an entire day, but rarely did he attempt to do so without some sort of down time in between engagements. Besides, it helped him process what he had learned. Indeed, he felt like his Mando'ad training was starting to knit with the things he'd picked up as Me'suum'ika Cabur, specifically as a Blademaster. A huge influx of knowledge was not useful in itself--only through analysis could it be made to serve him.

 

He approved of Mirdala's ideas for integrating a blade into her beskar'gam. "It could provide a surprise for an unwary attacker," he commented before they lapsed into silence. He'd learned how to defend against foes like Mirdala, applying what before was only theory. He'd fought jetiise who were fast like her, but the way he went about fighting Force users was almost completely different to this. At any rate, he would never engage them in melee unless it was to pull a trick with his cortosis blade or an ysalamir.

 

When she brought up his aliit--or rather his lack of one--he was silent for a moment before peicing together a response. He was not ashamed of his past, for the Mando'ade had a common saying about how who one's buir was is not important compared to the buir one would be. But it was a... delicate matter, not one that he had ever before put into words.

 

"My buir was... clanless," he said. He decided not to specify why. Especially since the word Kyr'tsad set many Mando'ade on edge. "Determined not to forsake his heritage, he raised me according to the resol'nare. I am Fett in tal'din, but aliit ori'shya tal'din."

[Vihk]

Vihk's grin was plastered even through the day as walked openly on his sore bones as if they didn't bother him. There were some measures taken to fix his broken rib, but as long as he didn't do anything too strenuous for a little it would heal in time. He remembered somehow, the pain of braking something and somewhat the length at which it took to heal.

 

The contention of his previous actions returned though, iced with a familiar sensation as Vihk lingered around sparring fields and Mandalorian bouts of strength and agility.

 

He had almost walked the length of the city, when the familiar feeling hit him straight in the gut right outside a particularly average training facility. It was still rather odd to have a gut, but Vihk managed to alleviate the conflicting feeling a bit, by wandering into the facility amongst sparring vod to see exactly what the matter was.

 

Then his eyes turned as ice as they touched the beskar'gam of none other than Shadow Fett himself, fighting with a very capable female Mandalorian.

 

The former Mandalore's steps almost carried him away from the training facility, but he was mesmerized by the rhythm at which they moved. There was a certain ebb and flow to their movements and they were both very active in their steps.

 

At first Vihk's thoughts rushed to aid his ailing confidence in the situation at hand, telling him that Fett might not recognize him, when a hand crashed his hopes to the floor, clasping his shoulder in an ironic vote of brotherhood.

 

"Hey Vihk, I just got back from my folks'.... They... Why are you staring at me like that?" Jaraht asked, his expression devoid of any recognition.

 

Vihk's face had turned completely white as all of the color seemed to drift toward the floor. His peripheral glance pointed toward the bout currently going on in the center of the facility and Jaraht's expression turned as well.

 

Vihk stood straight up and tried to look his best, but all of the feeling in his face began to fly away. He tried his best to remain pleasant in the wake of his potentially catastrophic punishment, but was bubbling with doubt beneath the surface of his skin.

 

I need to prepare for the worst or this could end badly. Let's hope he didn't hear it...

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

The young Mando'ad looked across the training arena, thoughtful for a moment. He was right. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. It was all each of them really had now. Two Mando'ad with no real ties to any aliit, and inwardly Mirdala was pondering how many more of their vod were in the same situation. For someone who's aliit bonds had always been so strong, Mirdala's world had literally been turned upside-down by Tracyn's death. It was due in part to that, that she found herself so easily aligning with Fett, a traat'aliit'ad, the only real semblance of aliit she had left. She would defend it just as fiercely.

 

"And I am the last of my own line, no real aliit to speak of, curious isn't it?" the tone of her question signaled that it was more of a musing, and one that didn't necessarily need an actual response.

 

She rose and started across the dusty ground of the training area, her "other sense" telling her that they were being watched, and had been even as they'd fought. She relayed her impressions to Fett, her "other sense" had always been more attuned after she'd been fighting for a while. "I'm not sure if it's that Force-sense thing, or if I'm just paranoid, but I think that we drew more than just the casual observer with our bout," she observed through the implant's interface so just the two of them could hear.

 

She stood, toying with the naginata casually as though working in her mind how best to integrate it with her beskar'gam. She didn't bother with her buy'ce seeing as how the observer had already seen her face. She waited to take her cue from Fett.

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett checked his 360-degree vision in his buy'ce without turning his head. He immediately spotted the observer of which Mirdala spoke. The man was young and didn't sport a beskar'gam, which made Fett think he wasn't a Mando'ad. That didn't make much sense, given that this was Keldabe, but he was unconcerned. But there was something familiar about him, Mand'alor realized. After a moment, he placed it--the man reminded him of Vihk Ahzinger, only much younger. He wondered idly if Ahzinger had any ade.

 

It didn't matter. Fett responded over the personal channel. "I'm sure if he has something to say to me, he'll come over and say it," he said. The fact that he was Mand'alor meant that there were probably Mando'ade that wished to speak with him, either to influence what meager planetary politics Manda'yaim had or even just to offer him verbal support. Regardless, he was in no danger here. Pulling a gun on Mand'alor in the middle of Keldabe was probably one of the best ways in the universe to get oneself perforated with blasterfire.

 

Fett glanced at his buy'ce's chrono. It was edging around 1730 local time. "Interested in finding some skraan and checking up on the Rangir?" he suggested.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala nodded, she'd pretty much worked straight through lunch and had worked up quite an appetite during their sparring match. She replaced the borrowed weapon in the training rack and retrieved her kukri's and buy'ce.

 

"That and your security upgrade interface should be just about ready for you to input the necessary data. I had them change how some of the redundancy systems, subroutines, and hardware were routed so that it would be even harder to crack into since it's a completely custom install," she responded as she donned her buy'ce. "Have you thought of a name for your new me'sen?"

 

After a few moments and yards on their way in search of something to eat, Mirdala finally asked another question, "What's it like having all those people in your head? I'd think that it'd get quite crowded. Though, more to the point, I'm curious as to what it's like to have felt use of the Force, but be unable to call upon it." She laughed slightly, glad for the relative privacy that their Augury technology afforded them, and added, "I seem to be quite the opposite, I can feel it, sometimes, but have no clue how to use it. I have yet to really absorb what Aryian left me."

[Vihk]

Well, it seems I'll need to take the first step...

 

Vihk looked at Jaraht somberly for a moment and finished his interaction with a curt nod. Then, tensing each of his muscles in turn to make sure he could still move, the former Mand'alor stepped across the way to Fett and slowly knelt to the ground.

 

His hands balled into fists, hitting the ground roughly the same time his left knee did. His form managed to half in size and he kept the pose, even though his ribs were burning in the uncomfortable position.

 

"Mand'alor, I have come to answer for my crimes in the face of our people. I, Vihk Ahzinger wish to redeem myself in the eyes of my vod and offer myself up to any punishment that is fitting the heinous deeds I have performed." Vihk admitted in full as he knelt on the ground, giving himself to Fett for judgment. It was one thing to lose a clan because you died, but it was quite another to honorably die in a mock ritual to cover the deeds of your past.

 

Oddly enough, Vihk's internal mantra that seemed consistently drawn to his self pity began to wane until it was only a faint whisper in his ears. He felt exasperated, but calmed; he could feel a warmth that was hiding beneath the frostiness of his guilt begin to rise.

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett had indeed started thinking about a name. His first two ships' names had been themed around vengeance. He was not opposed to vengeance, but as Moon Knight he felt called to a higher ideal. Mand'alor shrugged. "Something simple. Maybe Justice," he said as they continued to walk. When Mirdala drifted back toward the topic of Moon Knight, he had no compunction about answering. Not anymore.

 

"They're just memories," he explained. "It's not like their living in my kovid, trying to get my attention. Isolder was different, though. He could do things with his mind that I didn't think possible. It expanded my awareness, but I can't do it anymore."

 

They continued in silence for a moment, but then the man that had been observing them made his move. Instead of making himself a potential threat, as Fett might have expected, he instead kneeled and revealed that he was, indeed, Vihk Ahzinger, the previous Mand'alor who had decidedly made a few poor choices that got the Mando'ade in trouble with both the Republic and the Empire. But he had realized his mistakes, and now he was here, contrite before his successor. It was... an almost ridiculous scene.

 

Fett looked down at Vihk. "Get up. I have nothing as Mand'alor that you seek," he said simply. "You are a Mando'ad as long as you follow the resol'nare and do what's best for the aliite. This has nothing to do with me."

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

”œDirect,”

[Vihk]

Having his admission thrown back in his face stung a little, but Vihk's conscience had been warmed at his actions. Yes, his position was quite odd, but it was the first impulse that came to mind and as such his body followed suit. Having been asked to get back up though, Vihk finally remembered just how painful a broken rib could be. The healing process had begun and he'd been heavily tended to with painkillers, but the searing pain still shook through his body as he lumbered up to his full height, cringing a little at the pain, but shrugging it off in the end.

 

"You may think this has nothing to do with you, but I argue it has more to do with you than you know or care to consider. It lies within the intrinsic respect I have for your dedication and abilities; my acknowledgment of your judgment of me even as I died on the battle field and the deeds for which I am personally responsible for in both the lost lives of our people due to my indiscretions and the Death Star battle, even if I was, at that time, driven by will of the dark lord that I was driven." recanted Vihk with a heavy heave of his massive shoulders.

 

Vihk's young form seemed fairly new and untouched aside for a handful of fresh little scrapes and bruises, but the man's musculature made him a pretty large figure indeed; a bit wider than an average man and at about a foot or so higher than an average male.

 

However, a deep humility echoed in his eyes where his pride had once flourished and a great understanding began to burrow in the roots of his mind.

 

"I will follow the resol'nare as I did in years past and will hold the clans' truths and strength as my own, but I would ask, if you'd mind my company. Not that it is really of any personal interest, although working with you would have its benefits, but more of an issue of debt that need pay. As far as I'm concerned, I owe you a ship, a life and in some cases my service." Vihk breathed softly into his black beard.

 

"I was resurrected for a purpose and as far as I can tell right now, that purpose is to set right the wrongs I have committed in my previous life and/or make peace with the world I have created. So, I would ask if I could, as it were, pledge personal service to you in whatever way you would have me. I am adept in heavy weapons and demolitions; I have fine, even great armor crafting skills when given the right tools, I have dabbled in droid engineering and I am even formidable in hand-to-hand, but can still be beaten as was obvious on Coruscant."

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett stared and tried to work through some of the more cryptic things that Vihk was saying to him. He had no idea how Vihk had been involved in the Death Star battle, nor how he owed him a ship. If he sat down and really tried to puzzle things out, he probably could have come to the correct conclusion. However, at this point, it was hardly a priority of his. More important right now was that the former Mand'alor was asking to jump in on the traat'aliit that he and Mirdala had started. Frankly, few things could have interested Fett less.

 

"You owe me nothing," the ori'ramikad said, keeping his voice flat. "And I'm not building a guild here. If there's anyone you owe, it's our people, and to help them best, stay on Manda'yaim."

 

Somewhat brusquely, Fett turned away from Vihk and continued down the street, giving a tiny nod to Mirdala then speaking with her over his buy'ce and their private link. "What am I as Mand'alor, a shabla icon?" He also picked up on the thing to which Mirdala now referenced and raised an eyebrow. This sounded like it had the potential to be the thing he had told her he sought. Law enforcement--bounty hunting criminals for the government. Good pay with a pursuit of justice and satisfied Moon Knight oath to boot.

 

"Sounds like it's worth investigating," he answered. As far as he was concerned, they could leave as soon as their me'sene were ready. Presently, though, they were approaching a place where they could get a hearty Mando meal to take with them back to the MandalMotors tower.

 

OOC: A note, ret'lini--I've got no problems with you, Alex, despite Fett's behavior. It's just not in his character to accept such a proposition, nor to start collecting a band of followers.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

((So then I should tell the NPC Twi'lek groupies to go away then huh Ian? ))

 

Mirdala quickly stifled her laugh at his comment about his new position amongst their people being some sort of position of hero-worship. The concept itself wasn't really anything to laugh about, but she couldn't help but find the situation a little ridiculous and more than a little amusing. She did have to agree with Fett though, if this vod really wanted to make up for mistakes against their kind, then staying and serving those same people, not their leader, would be the course that she would take, were she in his position.

 

"I doubt that's it," she said, her voice still toned with her amusement, "he was just trying to make his amends, just choosing the wrong lenedat. I think..." she pondered for a moment as she tried to get a read on him, "he's lost, but it is up to him to find his own way. That is not something that anyone could lead him on," she paused, the smile creeping back into her voice," even his Mand'alor. Vihk will find his own way, I think."

 

Still, from what little she knew of him through all accounts, it still had been a nehutyc move on his part. Mando'ad pride ran strong after all, and she couldn't begrudge him the modicum of respect that had come with his effort.

 

Mirdala also knew that sometimes numbers were a good thing, but for a man like Fett with so many secrets, having so many tagging along after him would grate against his very being and be a potential liability. Their respective involvement in the Augury had been their initial bond, and there the foundations of that relationship had been built. It was because of that foundation that Mirdala knew that she could trust him with her greatest secret, and in turn he'd shared his as the trust between them grew to form the beginnings of this traat'aliit. Mirdala considered that for a moment as she and Fett made their way to the market square. Her ability to use the Force suddenly struck her as something that she needed to keep hidden, her instincts told her as much. It would be hard to do so and be able to learn if there was a third in the group.

 

The market place was now a buzz with activity as the returning people kept their twice-weekly tradition of the market day. It exhilerated Mirdalal to see so many of her vod some in and some out of beskar'gam. Verd'ika practiced and played at their mock drills by the fountain, though it would really be difficult to really call any game a Mando'ad'ika played really a game. Their entire life they were constantly training, which is why they were amongst the best verd in the galaxy.

 

Mirdala slowly took it all in, imagining how the site would look once the rest of the planet's population returned. It would then truly be a sight to behold.

 

She could tell that her counterpart was getting just as eager as she was to have their ships done and to be on their way, but unfortunately for the two of them there was still much work to be done. Stagnancy never suited one born to wear beskar'gam

 

 

((Same here Alex. This is all characterization and doesn't have to do with our personal opinions of you. *Hug*))

[Vihk]

Vihk wasn't one to be troubled with an issue of pithy victim excuses or blaming anymore. He had enough of his rash impulses and as such was fairly indifferent when Fett dismissed him a second time.

 

He isn't a figure leader like Canderous so his strategies are different and isolated and he seems focused elsewhere. I wonder if he really did forget how he lost his ship in the Death Star battle or not...

 

Vihk shrugged to himself and slowly and carefully turned back to Jaraht who had seen the entire interaction.

 

The former general's face was mixed and he seemed a little put off. "The new Mand'alor seems a little absent doesn't he? It's not like we need a concentrated focus of leadership, but at least you think he'd be... Y'know, a leader?" Jaraht mumbled to Vihk as Fett and Mirdala walked away toward a food establishment on the undamaged part of town.

 

Vihk felt a little mixed as well, but somehow giving his convictions to another relieved the icy tumor that had built a lump in the core of his body. It was interesting to say the least, but selfish all the same. If he just went around admonishing his feelings to anyone who would listen he'd be a bleeding sycophant and portraying himself as a martyr that he didn't need to be.

 

So, Vihk patted Jaraht on the shoulder and began to walk toward the side of Keldabe that was being renovated with the intention of offering assistance.

 

He even managed to make it a fair amount of the way there when he was interrupted by a sudden revelation from his compatriot. Jaraht broke the moment of silence with an interesting article that he found on the Holonet that he thought might interest Vihk.

 

Patronizing Jaraht, The "old" Mandalorian looked down at Jaraht's offered Data Pad with his emerald eyes and was inspired by the implications of the job.

 

Justice, a fickle yet valuable attribute for anyone to aspire to...

 

"Sounds like it may be a good project for later. Right now though..." Vihk replied, taking a moment to sigh and continue shuffling toward the construction site. "I'm, going to help the troops here to reassemble a few of the buildings, because well... They are still my vod in one way or another."

 

Jaraht looked at Vihk with a smile, playfully punching him in the arm and even though the impact felt considerably different on Vihk's end he responded in kind as he kept walking.

 

For the rest of the day he didn't mention to anyone else his name or his "legacy". He wasn't here to blow up his status or his shame. He wasn't here to make an overarching statement and while he may have wanted to apologize to an entire people, the aspect of it was kind of useless, especially given the strength of the clan. So, seeking a more actionable approach, he thought it better to help them rebuild, create new armor or repair the old and continue on with his life as if it never happened, but remember the lessons he learned.

He'd go on his own path, but keep the Mandalorian principles close...

 

He'd retain his culture and his heritage unlike he did years ago when he ran away from his people...

Edited December 1, 2010 by Guest

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett remained passive. Vihk would find his own way to atone for his deeds. The fact that he had once been Mand'alor meant that the one before him had faith in his abilities and his dedication to the resol'nare. His actions hadn't always reflected such devotion, but Fett knew that leadership could inspire pragmatism that had the potential to lead to ori'suumyc actions. He didn't know what the title Mand'alor meant to the man, at any rate, but it didn't mean to the same thing to Fett.

 

Presently he and Mirdala entered a place not too unlike the Oyu'baat. The Mando'ade strode through it without drawing so much as a glance. When they'd been in Mos Eisley, the mere sight of them had drawn the attention of the thugs and bartenders and everyone in between. Here, every patron bore the beskar'gam.

 

A couple mintes later, they'd ordered some skraan and, after receiving it, were on their way back to MandalMotors, walking in comfortable silence. The walk wasn't far, and soon they were going back down the lift to the basement area, where they caught sight of the Rangir and the Justice--if that's what he was going to name it. It struck him again how much it resembled a tank--the thing looked like it was posing a challenge to anyone and everyone to try and take it down. Fett imagined that the effect would be similar to a beskar'gam, causing many to back down rather than risk an engagement.

 

He gestured to Mirdala and they boarded his ship, which was currently empty but for 2277, who was doing all the work right now integrating himself while the MandalMotors techs were working on the Rangir's plating. The inside was large enough for living, he noted, and totally secure. Some of the security systems were already in, but 2277's work couldn't be pipelined with many of them. Fett popped his buy'ce and started to eat.

 

"You've heard plenty about me," he said to Mirdala. "But what about you? What did you do before the Augury, and why the undercover work as Ca'tra Dar'manda?"

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala followed in suit, but instead of just removing the buy'ce she stripped the rest of her beskar'gam, resuming the flight-suit and tank combo that she'd been working in earlier since there was still some final tweaking that she wanted to do on the ship's systems.

 

"A little of this and a little of that," she began as she munched away before elaborating further. "When I was young I was working on becoming a Jorneyman, but that got rather boring after a while. I've done my stint as a Beroya, which is actually how Tracyn and I met. Some utreekov tried to double-cross the two of us and short-change us on the payment of the lenedat. Needless to say the hut'uun lost that argument and wound up paying double for the job, and the two of us wound up falling kar'taylir darasuum and became riduur."

 

"We kept at the beroya work for a while, but finally decided to find a place to settle and raise ade of our own, which is when we bought the cantina and changed our names." Her expression hardened, as she rose and resumed her work, loosening one of the bulkhead panels and crouching down to check the connections.

 

"We went under cover so that we could hide from the enemies that we'd made during our time as beroya. Just before I got Aryian's message, I had agreed to help a Jetii named Stevenson, but was called away by the message. You will recall my surprise that you and Aryian were able to put my two identities together."

 

She was working as she spoke, breaking off for a moment as she ran a diagnostic against the integrations that 2277 was having issues with. While she worked on the code and port integrations, she was quiet.

 

Like Fett, she hadn't really ever shared so much about herself with anyone else, other than her riduur, and even Tracyn hadn't known about her Force abilities. Did that mean that she trusted Fett more than her own riduur? Had she left for reasons to serve her sense of honor, or to selfishly learn more about the side of her that she kept secret? She would be lying to herself if she stated that Aryian's call hadn't come at an almost too convenient time. As she found more and more of the Force-users crossing her path, her own curiosity about her own nature in the Force had resurfaced.

 

Finally she spoke again, "Tracyn doesn't know," she closed her eyes and corrected herself," didn't know...that I am Force-sensitive. You and, I would guess, Aryian, and possibly the other jetiise from the Augury, are the only ones that know."

[Moon Knight]

ShadowFett listened carefully as he ate. He had realized that asking Mirdala to talk about her past would bring up for her uncomfortable memories. She had been very private in her grief which he knew existed for her riduur. He respected that privacy absolutely--he was a man that still had secrets he had told no one, even an alias he had taken at one point for much the same reasons Mirdala had become Ca'tra Dar'manda. But when she transitioned smoothly into broaching the topic herself, it helped him get a read on her. It meant that the grief was there, but her ramikadyc mindset led her to confront her feelings instead of burying them. That, or she felt like she needed his support, which was a curious thing for Fett.

 

Her last sentence seemed at first to be a simple observation, but as Fett chewed, he realized that it was a little bit more. He had told her things about himself that he had told no one else--the nature of the power of Moon Knight, for one--and now she was doing the same. She was telling him things her riduur hadn't known about her. For a moment, Fett wondered what that meant. He knew alot about the galaxy and almost everything about combat, but socially he couldn't pick up the subtext, if it was there at all.

 

Mand'alor was pretty sure there was something he was supposed to say right now, but he had no idea what it was. So he let the me'sen lapse into silence he hoped was contemplative and continued to eat.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala wasn't sure herself what the observation meant. Would she have volunteered the information if Fett hadn't seen the datapads that she'd left lying around so carelessly? If he hadn't directly asked her about it, would she have divulged the information? She'd seen the bounties that had been posted on the network related to any and all Force-users. The galaxy's climate seemed to be changing, and unless she wanted to paint herself a target, it was something that she would have to keep hidden.

 

Fett's silence worried her for a moment before she realized that he was probably trying to make sense of her observation, that there was no reconsideration of his offer to remain her traat'allit'ad. It was simply his nature. She imagined that as guarded as he was, that social interaction wasn't something that he'd really done a lot of, at least the kind of social interaction that someone didn't up dead or turned over to a client.

 

"You should be able to enter your biometrics in now," she said after tweaking a few more connections. "I also had them put the EMP shielding on the ship as well, same design as mine, but it'll take a few more days to refit it."

 

~~~~~~

 

The next few days were spent between the two of them training and making their own mark on their respective me'sene. Mirdala doing most of the technical work on her own ship once the beskar plating had been completed, ensuring that her modifications would still be functional and helping Fett make modifications on Justice.

[Moon Knight]

A few days later, ShadowFett was riding down the lift once again down to the basement of the MandalMotors tower. The final report had come in, informing him that the Justice was finished at last. 2277 was integrated, the EMP shielding was in place, and the security systems were fully operational. They included the ability for him to remotely lock out all computer systems as well as internal and external hatches, ray shields that would automatically deploy if uninvited guests were detected onboard and could further be activated through his buy'ce, and installed cages he could use for prisoner transport, Force-user or not.

 

The Rangir was also complete and was at least twice as difficult to destroy as before. The two ships together would complement each other in combat every bit as well as their pilots would. And over the last few days, Mand'alor had done little but train. When Mirdala had not been working on the ships, they had trained together. Sparring with melee weapons, sparring with low-power blasters, marksmanship--a variety Fett had chosen to make sure they became fully acquainted with the other's talents. It turned out that they were both competent snipers, which offered the possibility of a deadly combination attack or the ability for it to appear that there was only one of them while they had hidden support from their traat'aliit'ad.

 

Presently Fett approached the Justice and was met by one of the Mando'ade that had been working on it for the last few days. "Everything's ready, Mand'alor," the man reported.

 

"Ori'jate," he responded. "You'll accept no compensation?"

 

The man nodded. "MandalMotors has been successful with the Be'suliik and Tra'kad designs, even the ones we export to aruetiise. One ship isn't going to bankrupt us."

 

Moon Knight nodded. "As you wish," he said. He had almost ten million credits sitting in a series of highly secure bank accounts, and had been living and purchasing weapons off the interest alone. Even if the Justice was worth millions, he could have afforded it. Still, if Manda'yaim wished to respect his title, whether he was going to be the type of leader it expected or not, he had no place arguing. It didn't hurt to hold onto that waadas anyway.

 

He boarded the vessel, which immediately recognized him. 2277 greeted him and expressed interest in taking the Justice for a spin. He'd taken some time in the last few days to familiarize himself with the vessel's controls and capabilities, but had yet to fly her. Mand'alor sent a comm to Mirdala. "All done here. I think the Core is beckoning us." It would be nice, he decided, to get to Coruscant, even if the last time he'd been there he had considered it hostile territory. Manda'yaim, as much as it reminded him of his youth, was really the shebs of the galaxy.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

"Good here too," she responded, checking the engine upgrades once more. With the addition of the beskar plating, she'd wanted to upgrade the engine's power to compensate for the additional weight, but mainly because she wanted a faster and more powerful ship.

 

She saw to the appropriate transfer of credits from her accounts to the MandalMotors and ran a final check on her systems, and relayed her acknowledgment and exit vectors to the Justice, allowing the autopilot to take over as the Rangir and the Justice entered hyperspace, disappearing into the starfield over Manda'yaim

[Menthu]

Red lights flashed in the cockpit he found far too cramped for the armor. Sweat broke out on the brow of the man wrestling the controls as he entered orbit around Mandalore. Calm though he was, he found the armor a bit stiffing every time he went to fly the small little starfighter.

 

Perhaps I will get the ship renovated to account for this armor.

 

Still his trip to the surface was more uneventful than anything, only the turbulance of a passing storm, causing the rather large man to juke his ship wildly to compenstate. He still did not have a feel for this particular craft, and it was only recently given to him.

 

Boots on the ground however, a whole different story played out. A powerfully built warrior dur in his heels as light gleamed from his armor. Swift yet graceful movements are what defined him, as he made his way into town. He was for any and all purposes a broke, clanless, mandalorian. There was no place for him here currently but he would have to make a place for himself if he wished to see his dream come true.

 

He looked around the city and smirked.

 

So this is Keldabe

[Vihk]

The next few days rolled past with little to no interruption. Vihk managed to build a rapport with his vod and although he couldn't avoid giving himself a name, he preferred not telling them what his real name was.

 

Everyone in the camp knew him as Buir Vari'an, which spawned off of Varian, a name in which Vihk was growing accustomed to. The Buir part came with his sage advice that he gave to his people as they worked, played and fought. He even began substantially assisting in the building reconstruction, which almost earned him the title Mender Varian, but in the end Buir beat out Mender for popularity.

 

In time his wound began to heal and Jaraht began to settle back in with his family, which meant the two of them met considerably less.

 

Vihk's scars and calluses began to return as he practiced in the off hours, but in different places and different orientations and he even managed to procure another tattoo of a Mythosaur Skull, but this time, it was etched into his chest instead of his shoulder.

 

His hair and beard, which were the least of his concerns, had begun to grow out a bit and even though he was concerned for his prowess in combat when having to do with this hair, he found an easy solution in pulling it out of the way and binding it in the back.

 

He even managed to complete his work on a new suit of beskar'gam for himself. It was an homage to the red Neo Crusader armor in honor of his father, but built a little more economically and with full range of movement in mind; it accommodated for Vihk's line of combat strategy involving heavy weapons, which involved a great deal of thick armored plates and it had a level of vacuum insulation and mag boots essential for space incursions. However, it was relatively absent of other trappings like grenade launchers and the like. This was a little weird to the rest of his vod, who believed it was useful to hide things from your opponent. 'This is true', he would tell them, 'but what if your opponent still falls, even when he sees your entire arsenal is nothing more than a knife? What have you to gain with deception that can't be won in a fair fight?'

 

Vihk had grown into his position here, and with his appearance seemed more like a village elder than just another Mandalorian, but over time, as Keldabe began to regrow and flourish, Vihk felt again and again like he should leave. It was a sad thought and he knew people here would miss him, but he would be back and would defend his people with whatever he had if summoned by Mandalore for the good of the clans.

 

He needed to find his own path though, and since he had no aliit to speak of, it just wasn't here.

 

Vihk said his good byes at the end of approximately two weeks, and found Jaraht in the crowd, a warmth lingering in his gaze and his smile. A herd of children were ahead of him though and managed to grapple Vihk quite well as he trudged out to his ship, enabling Vihk's old friend to catch up with him for one last goodbye and a punch in the arm. This was a commonplace tradition between them and Jaraht knew now, that after 2 weeks Vihk was beginning to become more accustomed to it than he had before. Still, the sentiment was captured and Vihk punched his friend back, before grabbing a shuttle and taking off toward Coruscant.

[Menthu]

Tracyn Verd, it was his name and so far not many had asked for it. Though he had arrived a seemingly lost, dazed, and confused visitor, the people had accepted him as he was. As such he had been drafted into the rebuilding process of their homes from the moment he arrived, though he still had no home of his own.

 

This, did not bother him much, as he was accustomed to living like a nomad. Still after a time where it seemed he was no threat to them, a local family did offer their home to him.

 

For the first week, things were rough, he was picking up more of the language. Far more than what he had already learned. It helped to be in an all immerse environment. By week two, he had gotten 'taught' in the mandalorian ways. The code they followed as well as how they operated.

 

Week three is when he learned what Fett was to these people. That he was their ultimate leader. Their mandalore as they called him. It would make things far more interesting for him, when at last they did indeed meet.

 

Still as time progress, he worked with the mandalorians, on occasion ate with the mandalorians, and even took lessons from a five year old. To him it was all simply part of working toward the goal.

[Terra]

Terra's voice was calm as she spoke into her comlink. She had a squadron of ETA-5s at her command, something she was not expecting to have in her career. According to Black Sun intelligence, there was always a small fleet of Mandalorian craft patrolling their spacelanes. Her mission was to slag them while they were unsuspecting, leading the way for what was to happen next. A small smile flickered over her face as she scanned her weaponry report. All were active, and awaiting discharge. She flipped to the squadron-screen and scanned over the reports. The ships were interceptors, used for slash and burn tactics, so against the Mandalorian fleet, they would do well.

 

”œRaven Squadron, report. We'll be exiting hyperspace in moments. Stick close to me... We'll get out right amongst them.”

[Delta73]

Caedes Squadron, under the command of Vigo Ca'Aran, emerged on the tails of Raven Squadron, to the horror of all. As Raven Squadron began their slash tactics upon the Mando'a defence fleet, the Caedes Squadron sprinted towards the subspace and holonet relay stations throughout orbit. The orders were sharp and terse.

 

”œCaedes two, six, and eight, engage the holonet relays. Caedes three, five, and seven the subspace transmission stations. Caedes eleven, and twelve, on me. We will engage the orbiting defence platforms. Cades four, nine, and ten, wipe out the transmission stations in the debris field. Let's get 'em boys, they aren't expecting us. Let's use that to our advantage!"

 

The four individual units split up, Ca'aran and his other two heavy fighters locked onto the defence platforms. According to the sensor readings, they had not yet begun to power up, as their crews were no doubt being rudely awakened by the bleating alarms of incoming enemy forces. Unfortunately for this system, it had followed the trend of rapid disarmament declared by the corrupt senate in the waning days of the Galactic Alliance. They did not know the horror that awaited them from the deep and dark of hyperspace.

 

Delta flicked the control yoke and selected the proton torpedoes, and waited until the whine in his helmet was a singular tone. He squeezed the yoke and two streams of blue launched from the belly of the fighter. Joined by the missiles of the other fighters. Delta and his squadron quickly pulled into a banking manoeuvre to bring their heavy lasers to bear upon the platforms. Though they were not yet in range, Caedes 12 fired a few test shots, they sadly burned into nothing ere ever reaching their intended targets.

 

”œShields double front!”

[Lord Ar-Pharazon]

Ar-Pharazon's spacecraft, the Dreadfully Unpleasant and Very Unholy Chariot of Unwarranted Suffering burst from hyperspace, like a knife through the skin of an unsuspecting fool. Having just duped several women into wasting their cash on his fraudulent and worthless do-it-yourself business products, the evil Sith was feeling quite good. Now, it was time to attack and kill innocents the old fashioned way. He sent a transmission to Terra.

 

”œI have arrived. Let me know when we're going to the ground. I am preparing my weapons as we speak. I am ready to hack apart some human life. Ar-Pharazon, standing by.”

[Terra]

”œRaven squadron, head planetside, to Keldabe, slash the towers, I'll hit MandalMotors. Burn them to the ground, keep an eye out for enemy contacts”

[Delta73]

”œTo ground men! Clear us a way Caedes Squadron!”

[Terra]

The Courtyard's rubble felt hot through Terra's lightly armored boots, and even though she wore a helmet, the smell of scorched hair and burning flesh was nearly overwhelming. Two Black Sun agents walked behind her, beside Malin: Raven Eleven, a black-haired Iridonian female of around seventeen years of age, and Raven Twelve, a Rodian male in his late twenties. Both held heavy blaster rifles, and moved with the air of superior soldiers, keeping stooped, running from cover to cover. Terra held her flechette pistols, both loaded with armor-piercing rounds, and walked with confidence, relying on her lightning-fast reflexes to keep her from harm.

 

Before her, stood an imposing charcoal-gray building made of granite, from what she could tell through the smoke and flame. Parts of the building had collapsed, but the main entrance to the hall still stood, its great wooden doors unhinged and scorched. In the doorway, lay three bodies, young men, unarmored and nearly unidentifiable from the trauma inflicted upon their bodies. They were the first of many.

 

Terra walked slowly into the grand meeting hall, having to step over the strewn bodies of Mandalorians who had died while they had eaten or drank. Helmets and weapons lay scattered about, along with fractured dishes and eating utensils. As she walked, she noticed a door in a wall, undamaged. Before it lay a pile of wounded Mandalorians, all geared for war, as if they had been guarding the doorway. One of them stirred as she approached and reached feebly for her weapon. Terra reached the blaster-rifle first and snapped the weapon over her armored knee. Taking out her vibrosword, she drove it calmly through the chink in the woman's armor, between helmet and body, bringing the singing blade to a stop within the heart. Withdrawing the blade, she went to work dispatching the other two wounded Mandalorians before she brought her attention to the doorway itself.

 

Taking one of the dismembered arms from the floor, she placed the hand against the doorway's recognition device. In response, the doorway whisked open, revealing a dimly hallway, sloping downhill. At the far end, stood an imposing Mandalorian, dressed in brown and yellow armor, with the insignia of the Clan Fett displayed upon the chestpiece. Glancing for but a second at her HUD, she matched the description to the Clan leader of Fett. Holding out her vibroblade, she spoke slowly.

 

”œTerra of the Echani, here to wipe away or capture the last of the Mandalorians... Will you surrender your clan?”