The Spice Mines of Kessel

[Dar'Manda]

The sudden shift of the ship beneath my feet signalled our exit from hyperspace as the rest of the men began the final turning of their armor and weapons check, myself sitting only in silence as we awaited the rest of our orders. So much had changed since I began running with my fellow 'vod, from our shortly live crusade until now where I follow Mandalore's second in command into the unknown, questions about Kad Ha'rangir and his purpose filling my thoughts for the most part. I tightly gripped my blade and slammed into the metal near my leg in disappointment and despite, one of my fellow 'vod tossing me a helm mumbling "You're going to need it." as I looked up. Tearing my blade from the metal, I rose and placed the buy'ce upon my head, sealing it tightly. It was time to act and I needed to get my game face one.

 

I was growing accustomed to being in the openness of space, feeling its pressure against my form, the weightlessness of its atmosphere and how to maneuver myself within it. So when I positioned myself in weight, it felt almost as if it was second nature to me, like I've done it all my life. And in a sense, it was a tad bit freeing in a sense as we watched the target move into position and our gunner disable it. Without a second thought, we lept forward, some using proposition to make the leap, others like myself allowing our own momentum to glide us into place as the next stage began.

 

Like blocks lined and tipping in a row, we responded to Tros' comm, whether in voice or in agreeing nod as we went down the line and as soon as the hatch was open, we made our move. But even beneath the buy'ce I was wearing, the noise of the klaxons and alarms tore at my hearing as we settled in, and once the airlock was sealed, I tossed the blasted thing aside. This was why I hated helms, and I'd rather much be deaf than blind at moments like this.

 

Blades in hand, my blinded gaze shifting about, I followed closely behind Tros as we began to fan out. 

[Dar'Manda]

Darkness was a state I had been used to my entire life, most of which I had spent hunting it rather than embracing it. So as we made our ways in different directions, newly self appointed Dar'Manda of Kad Ha'rangir that I had become, I embraced what I walked among and within. Turning the corner behind Tros, my blades at the ready and my forward finger guiding their aim, I stood back as Tros acted, remaining a silent observer as the events unfolded.

 

Since my time coming into the fold of the Crusaders, my part had grown from warrior to historian, blinded eyes set to record the events of what I saw and preach the words of Kad Ha'rangir. And even now, under Tros, my role had not waivered. If this was what I was meant to be, then so it would be. As the crew member's head was bashing in, I quickly scanned our local vicinity and made sure we remained unnoticed as Tros went about his duty. Satisfied, I nodded in return to Tros. Bending down, I reached my gloved hand outward and touched the crimson liquid as it spilled out upon the floor, running it across my fingers and marking my face between my eyebrows with its thick texture in the name of my beloved Lord.

 

As the power to the ship returned, we made our way to where the others began to gather, our path stained by the bloody footprints we left in our wake as we reached the others and the crewmen they had rounded up. As Tros and what appeared to be their leader passed words, I paced behind the lot ever so slowly, the blades within my hands clinched tightly, ready to pounce. And I almost did when the Zeltron spat upon Tros. Yet, I remained calm, watching and recording what I saw mentally as Monilar came in with great news. Then I watched as Tros and Vrax dragged off one of the members and a blaster shot soon resounded the quarters. I sheathed my weapons as the others began to move, and soon we all departed for the cargo we had came for.

 

After the cargo was loaded, and Tros was back aboard, the ship soon shook with ferocity. I looked about amongst the others as cheerful grins conquered their faces and strangely enough my own. Within moments after, I found myself alone, kneeling within the cargo hold of the ship as I prayed in silence to Kad Ha'rangir, praising him for his rescuing of more infidels through his cleansing fire. No matter where my path led me, I was glad that his guiding hand was there to show us the way of his truth.