saberforce

Tros lowered his head after he watched the defending fleets and remaining ships pull out of the space area around Chandrila. There was a great amount of disappointment that arose within him. He could feel the eyes of Vrax upon him before he heard him speak the words. “We will follow your command al’verde.” Tros adjusted himself and looked directly into Vrax’s eyes. His own eyes revealing what he was really thinking. The exchanged look provided enough of what was needed, as Vrax suddenly lifted within his hand Tros’ buy’ce. He wasn’t sure where Vrax got the time to pick it up, but he didn’t question it. He instead extended his own hand and retrieved it from the man. He put his buy’ce on and then turned to see that Vrax had also put his on. He understood what his purpose was now, at least for this battle. “In the name of Kad Ha'rangir… burn Chandrila to the ground. All turbolasers may fire at will. Glass the planet.” Tros walked side by side with Vrax towards the front of the bridge of the medusa-class Star Dreadnaught to watch the destruction of the planet.

There was a slight exhale as Tros surveyed the battlefield. His eyes were heavy with thought, and almost anyone could see it from just looking at him. It was also made easier by the fact that his own buy’ce was not with him, but rather sitting on an unused table. As his face continued to look around, he allowed for the right side of his own mouth to tighten and pull in, creating a look that was unmistakable. He closed his eyes for only a moment before he heard the sharp voice interrupt his own thoughts. “Kad Ha'rangir sure likes to pick the spots, huh.” Tros opened his eyes and looked to his right. Vrax Saxon with his own rugged face marked with scars of prior wars and battles was offering up an apologetic look. The scar upon his front chin made him stand out in a crowd, even amongst Mandalorians. Every part of the man seemed harden, rough and warn, even his blue eyes. Tros in turned offered up a shrug before turning his head back to observe the fire and smoke rising from the beach town front before them. He again allowed for the weight of everything sit upon him. “Don’t do that to yourself al’verde. We follow you. We accept you. You are our al’verde.” Tros looked down for a single moment before looking up at the sight before him again. The smoke rising from the city. He stood onboard the bridge looking below at Chandrila, and the smoke clearly coming from Hanna. He knew that Vrax was right. These men and woman did indeed follow him. But somehow deep down he doubted that it was out of anything other than the word of Manda'lor. Taking a quick inhale followed by a loud exhale of breath, Tros turned towards Vrax to face the man directly. “Inform Thae to lead the squads down. Burn and destroy everything that isn’t Hanna.” Tros looked out the viewport and within his mind that Kad Ha'rangir has saved the capital for Manda'lor alone.

Like a silent dart thrown at it target, the 3 patrol crafts shot out of hyperspace. They were silently re-routed to the Hapes Cluster instead of their target from a priority override by Terra. Standing instead of sitting, Tros kept his hands upon the seat of the pilots chair as he watched to movement from space of the planet below. His own buy'ce kept his eyes from the sight of his vod, but he knew that they could just as easily feel him through the air. Everyone's presence seemed heightened through the sheer volume of them being on yet again another siege of sorts. Although their orders were pretty clear... Silence was to objective. Looking at the copilot, Tros gave a slight nod. "Land outside the perimeter of any potential scanners of our target. This assignment is for us to be like shadow warriors. No one should see us." Tros only then let go of holding onto the chair of the pilot's chair and walked back to address the crew who was with him onboard the patrol craft. In the loading area, Thae stood with the five men from Clan Sharratt. He turned around and looked at Tros, giving him a slight nod before putting on his own buy'ce. With that, Tros made sure to check his own weapons before the craft began to shake from it going through the atmosphere. It didn't take too long before the shuttle had landed, allowing for its nine occupants to disembark the craft. Likewise, the other two patrol ships also did the same. Each were quick to pull up their HUD's, and Tros gave out marching orders from there. Then, silently and quickly, the 27 Mandalorians began to move towards the target location. They all had standing orders to slit the throats of anyone who could potentially be a problem on their way towards the warehouse. This would be the quietest his warriors would be on this mission. Silent and hidden.

And there it was, the call to war. He stood and watched as Mand’alor gave her speech, finishing up by putting her own buy’ce on as the Bes'uliik began to rise and prepare themselves for the ride to Triple Zero. Kad Ha’rangir’s war was about to start, and the group around him was whom were chosen to light the fires of change. He looked at Terra, Mandalore the Heartless and gave her a simple nod before turning to climb upon the back of the nearest Bes'uliik that he would ride to Coruscant. As Tros climbed up, the droid felt warm to him. Familiar to him, like an old home not seen in many years. He took a long moment to inhale and exhale as he closed his eyes and allowed for the moment to completely take over. Under his own breath, he uttered words so calmly and with passion and strength. "Mando'ad draar digu. Coruscanta a'den mhi, Vode an." As soon as he finished with his words, he looked up towards the stars with a finale exhale and then directly at Terra to follow her lead.

As he walked around the facility and took in the sheer amount of power that came with it, Tros began to feel a tug at his own heart. He missed Caen. His eyes and smile always seemed to bring an element of calm to a tense situation. He wondered though if he would even approve of this new path Tros found himself on. Would he still be with Tros knowing that Terra was his leader now? The thought left him slightly paralyzed for a moment as he stared down at the stone floor below his feet. It brought him some comfort to stare off at the stone below his feet. The reflections it caught from the horrible sky and air that surrounded the station reminded him of war. For some strange reason, it feels as if his life has been leading up to this moment. His time in the Outer Rim tracking down hundreds of bounties. The hunt for his buir throughout the galaxy. Him being positioned on Corellia to go undercover as a senator to draw out his buir. The death of ori’vod to the tracking down of Xae-Lin, and to follow that up with the war on Manda’yaim. It all lead him here. Siding with someone that he wouldn’t have five years prior. But something did change in him. And he couldn’t deny it. Kad Ha’rangir must have orchestrated his entire life up to this moment. And all of that to simply say that he understood what was about to go down. War. Kad Ha’rangir’s war. A war that will have him stand with Terra, Mandalore the Heartless. In fact, the Mand’alor he now fully believed was the rightful one. The one of whom he would follow. He found himself standing next to her now, along with the others she had gathered around her. The air was fully thick with the aspirations of war. He could tell by looking at all of them, their body language spoke the same thing his was shouting loud and clear. They were ready for war. They were ready to follow their Mand’alor. "Upon your word Mand’alor. We are ready."

Tros kept his own thoughts rather quite during the entire trip from Onderon to this new planet called Qat Chrystac. He had many thoughts about it, yet none of them compared to the sheer power he could feel echoing from the molten planet. Within his own mind, he was sure that Kad Ha’rangir had hand-picked this place as the start of the rebirth of the true Mandalorians. The very fact that he was staring down many basilisks being constructed, and a few even completed already, made this place feel like a staging ground for war. In fact, he was certain that many wars and battles would begin on this planet. Looking at Terra from behind his buy’ce, he gave a slight shake of his head. “No tour. A true warrior should be able to adapt to his environment quickly and on his own.” Tros didn’t wait for a response, he began to walk around the massive hangar bay and towards the main area that he should without a doubt be very familiar with. With each step he took, the loud thud of his boots slamming against the stone floor echoed a deep voice within his head. ’Behold the power and mighty tools I give you to help bring forth change.’ Tros knew the voice somehow. It was deep, strong, angry. It reminded him of his own buir, but it did not belong to him. No, the voice was that of Kad Ha’rangir.

Tros listened to her words, that war is where he could find kote. The crucible of war held a sound to it that resonated within the deepest part of his soul. Like a sharp ring that begged for attention, he understood now everything that he had felt while on Manda'yaim as he fought alongside his aliit. He understood his dar'buir and his own choices. He knew his path, as it burned deep within him and fueled his own desire. It was Kad Ha'rangir stirring within him the need to return to him, to be tested and tried so that change and growth and happen to his once glorious clan, now turned to shame. Terra walked away from him and towards the Basilisk that was before them. He had somehow missed the giant war droid as he encountered with the one that he would now follow. Even has he had the thought of following her, she motioned for him to follow her. And so he put his buy'ce back on and followed her to climb upon the Basilisk's back with Terra.

Tros looked at her as she spoke. His own emotions went swirling as she talked rather weakly over killing many on Mandalore. Although his own emotions rang like a loud bell nonstop within his own mind, her words cut through the sounds. They held some degree of truth and a lot of misconceptions of who Caen and himself were. She had extended her arm out to him, not of violence, but a simple offering. His own breathes were heavy as he stared down upon her bloodied hand. Her last words seemed to be unable to break his own concentration as he was now very intently focused upon her hand. After a very long pause, his own words seemed to come out like a trickle, yet very strong as opposed to her first words uttered to him. “Fett is not my king.-Nor has then been any honor for our people for a long time.” It was then that he allowed for his own body to finally relax. His own buy’ce dropped onto the grass, making the very faintest sound of a thud. Not once did he lift his head to look her in the eyes yet. His gaze was still transfixed upon her hand. “You did not rob them of honor, as there was none to be gained. Nor did you expose the weakness of those who call themselves Mando'ade. They had long since been exposed for their weakness.” It was now that his own muscles fully gave up trying to fight against the mind of Tros and allowed for him to have full control over everything again. His fists unclenched as he raised his own head to look her in the eyes. There was a burning deep within them-and it was not anger or hatred, but of purpose and strength. “I do not ask for him back, as there is no price to bring back the dead. My own pain is not something that can be bought.” It was now that Tros finally took her hand in his in a very firm embrace style grip. “The only price I would want that you could give is to train me to be that strong. Show me how to gain kote in battle.”

The Swift Justice finally made it to planet fall, yet he would not let himself land upon the main planet of Onderon. For some reason, it was a taint for him, a sickness of some kind. And regardless of such inner notions-he was pulled to Dxun. His own history of his people had fought and died for this moon. There was a copad to be here. And one he couldn't ignore. He needed to walk upon the ground that his ancestors walked. As he stepped off his ship and into the humid air of the jungle near the old abandoned base-other believed to be abandoned, his own nostrils filled with the air of the moon under his buy'ce. Lifeforms were all over the place and seemed to walk and go freely unchecked. The old satellite stood tall, yet broken and rooted to a heavy degree. It's smaller than I thought. Tros kept walking, letting his own weapons just hang, as none of the beasts appeared to be a threat to him as of yet. He was more interested in gathering history. Since the recent war on Mandalore shook him to the core, left him wondering what sort weakness held them down that allowed for such a strong disaster to overtake them-to overtake their culture so easily. It was then he spotted her. The kyramud. The one who had taken Caen's life. Even from this distance, he knew the Beskar'gam. He stood still and stared at her, both fists clenched in rage, yet unmoved towards his weapons. Why? You could easily shoot and take revenge... His own vision became slightly blurry from his own hot white rage that built up, yet somehow, he still didn't move. ... Why hesitate?... Finally, he felt his fists begin to unclench. Movement came to his body now as he was released from the rage. Lifting his hands, he surprised himself as he took off his buy'ce ad put it under his left arm. I don't kill because warriors deserve better. Tros now moved towards her, letting his own movement hesitate with each step. Tension sat within his whole body, but that's because it was a fight between wanting to shoot and wanting to run away. I don't run away. He stopped before her, still unaware if she even knew if he was behind her or not. "I know you... You killed my lover on Mandalore.... You made the fight worthy..." Tros just stood still, now being overtaken by the inability to move again. He was uncertain of why. Under his left arm he held onto his buy'ce tight. His right hand just sat at his side near his blaster pistol, yet not close enough to actually pull it up in time to shoot either. He was frozen until her reaction and movement released him.

"Understood." That was all Tros needed to say before he turned his attention to navigating the mine field to reach the Golan platform he was instructed to head towards. As he piloted his ship, which was much bigger then his former ship, took a bit of careful eyes to get through, even with the exact coordinates. Although, upon clearing the area, he had his ship head and dock with the Golan to join the fleet staging area. As he headed to where he directed, he made sure that his A280 blaster riffle and DL-44 heavy blaster pistol was armed and ready. Although he had a feeling that such weapons would be less important at the moment. They would be more useful later on in the fight, if it ever came to it. But from the layout of the system and how Black Sun and the Sith fleet had set themselves up, he understood what exactly he was being contracted for. He would help them win whatever battle came his way, but they hoped it would end in space before it ever reached planet side for either Onderon or Duxn. And for that, he would be ready.

Tros sat within the pilot's chair of the Swift Justice as he pulled out of hyperspace and looked at the planet before him. It was calm, yet the moon very close to it almost begged for him to touch down there. In time Duxn, in due time. Tros knew that his people held a massive history with that place, and he himself knew it very well. But his time for a reunion of sorts wasn't present. He was here to accept a contract. Opening a channel, he sought out what he was looking for. "This is Tros Ardell. I am here to accept a contract for Black Sun."

Upon having giving Rose a nod, he left the cantina and headed back to his ship, the Swift Justice and got it ready for take off. He was in hypserspace heading for his next contract within a manner of a half-hour.

Tros kept his own eyes upon his empty glass for a moment as Rose spoke. She gave him what he was looking for-answers as to why she was here. Slowly nodding his head, he turned to look at her in the eyes directly now. "No, Rose of Sharon Cariadus. I did not fight in the rebellion. My dar'buir did. He actually was responsible for the burning of some of the clans of my childhood home because of it. But to answer some of your other questions, I do not know why any others did not take up the contracts offered. They hold ties in places that they should not, much like Mand'alor." Tros now turned his eyes away from her. While he did not always agree with the current Mand'alor, he was still Mando and would follow the Resol'nare. Although, he did wish there was a bit more then passiveness from his own people. His comlink buzzed for a moment, quickly letting him know of the message from Black Sun, making a request to pay him to help defend the planet Onderon. Finally, credits worth earning. There was a slight smile that came to his face. He was looking to get back into action since the mini-war that broke out on Manda'yaim that caused so much death and grief. At least in this battle, there is a chance to easily win. He turned his gaze back to Rose and waved his comlink at her. "And as fate would have it, credits worth earning."

Tros took a moment to look over the newcomer to the bar. She-as far as he could tell, was a woman of the slender build. But he knew better then to judge a book by it's cover. Many Mando women could kill better then any man. He took a moment to take a huge gulp of his drink before setting the glass on the bar and thought upon why exactly he was here. Upon figuring out within his own mind the answer that he himself was seeking, he responded to her. "The safety of Manda'yaim is what brought me here." Picking up the glass and taking a huge swig again, he placed the empty glass on the bar again. "The work of being a beroya is what brought me here. The oya'karir. But for now, it's low duty work for the Red Dawn. I needed credits to fuel my ship." It was very direct and blunt. He didn't mean to be, but he felt like since the war on Manda'yaim, there just wasn't enough reason to give his words any fluff. Not since he had lost practically everything. As he stared out at the bar, he turned slowly to look at the other vod how had approached him. "You look familiar to me."

Tros had let the two slaves head back to his ship, as they were fairly unaware of points of interest on the planet. At least when it came to things that he was interested in. He did some walking around until he found a place that he would truly enjoy, a cantina that held a reputation of serving heavy alcohol. Letting himself in, he took a quick moment to look around the room. It was open and held a great amount of people for such an early morning-, but on a wasted sand infested planet like this one, there wasn't much to do in the mornings. As the beyora sat down and ordered a drink, some of the patrons began to talk of some Gotal podracer named Hol Gruth, who is supposed to win a race today. There was some Weequay sitting next to him who was clearly glancing at him from the side of his eyes. It wasn't uncommon for Tros to experience such treatment. Showing up in full beskar'gam kinda always had such an effect on others. "You can dink without staring. I'm not here to collect today, just drinking." He was normally well known throughout the Outer Rim planets, as the armor of Saberforce always dragged in the bounties he went after. It would seem to him though that such the case was not with the Weequay, as he turned to look him in the eye. "I am merely looking to see why you don't sit with the rest of your kind." Tros tilted his head in the direction that the Weequay was pointing. There were some other Mando'ade in the corner of the cantina-three of them by the looks. Even as he began to look and see, the Weequay kept talking. "Your type always hangout together when you all show up in your fancy armor. Speaking of which...do you know where Wobuwn might be able to buy armor like that?" Tros turned and gave a very strong glare, to which he was able to do since his buy'ce was off. "As I said, go back to drinking."

Tros found himself waking up from a very deep sleep. The excitement from the casino, along with getting some new additions to his personal usage, the pain of his old wound had acted up enough to put him into a deep sleep after he was able to have someone apply the cream that would help heal it. Getting dressed back into almost his full gear, minus only his buy'ce, he ate what was before him and then went to the two who were just outside his door. They had the military presence that he expected from their files. "I have a need to seek out a more... private ground for training. Report to my ship and I shall be there shortly. For now, I need a drink. Do you happen to know which cantina around here is less busy?" He wanted a drink in order to help loosen his body and mind up before he would spar with the two. He found that nothing but alcohol was the quickest way to let tense muscles relax after they were strained.

Tros took a moment to observe the dead beast before him, despite the fact that he was getting wet from the sprinklers. After a moment passed by, he turned around and put his buy'ce back on and took the file that held the information on what the Trandoshan had that was now his. As he walked out of the casino, he wanted a drink, so he made sure to pick something up and his way back to his chambers. He had made the request for one slave to report to his ship, the other to his chambers with him. As he entered, he slowly took off everything that he had on due to some pain it was causing. He still wasn't fully ready to have a full on hunt, but he was at least strong enough to maintain appearances for a short while. Getting all of his beskar'gam off and stored away, he winced a bit in pain as he tried to take his undershirt off. It was then that the door buzzed, letting him know that the slave he requested had arrived. "Come" In walked the young lad. He was wearing basic clothes for the most part. The boy's name was Taylor. He had brown hair and brown eyes. For a quick second, he reminded him of Raeshe. Looking away from him upon the door shutting, he spoke quietly. "I need to apply that medical cream." Even as Tros said it, he began to grimace in pain as he walked over to his bed and lay down in it. He needed to have a relaxing night. Since Taylor's file said he was skilled in hand-to-hand... Tros would put that to the test. *He needed to have extra training in it anyways, and the sooner he was healed, the sooner he could get better at what he was lacking.* *Edited to make a point super clear.*

Tros kept his face calm, but did raise a simple eyebrow at the filthy Trandoshan. He was well aware from the tension of those around the table that cheating was approved, and no one would care whatever the Mando did to the beast now. Simply moving his left hand closer to his right wrist, Tros tilted his head and offered up a soft voice. "Those are my credit chips, and you want to know why?... Cheaters burn in hell." At his own word, Tros lifted his finger quickly to press the flame-thrower upon his wrist gauntlet. It's jet-like spray smacked the lizard straight in the chest, quickly consuming him. Tros kept his own finger upon the trigger as he stood up and walked over the table towards a Trandoshan that was slowly backing away smelling like BBQ. Upon his feet landing upon the other side of the table, he finally released the trigger. Tros kept moving though to stand over the burning hide that once looked like a lizard. "When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost. You've managed to loose all three today." Tros then hit the trigger and let the juice of his flamethrower run out upon the cheating Trandoshan.

Tros looked for a moment at the backside of the Twi'lek as she walked back towards the bar area and away from the table. He had taken notice of what she had pointed out to him in regards to the Trandoshan, of which he was now beginning to wonder if the cheating animal had a bounty that might be worth something. Knowing that putting his buy'ce on to check would be a violation of the rules he was sure. Even out here on backwater worlds, gambling rules were still followed very heavily to help protect credits and reputation for all sorts patrons that would be drawn into establishments like this one. Choosing to be subtle, he reached under his left gauntlet to scratch, much was a very common tick of any player who might come across as nervous in a high stakes game like this, but he also used a secret switch to turn on a face scan that would show up on a mini display on his gauntlet. Tros has used it many times when separated from his buy'ce on other worlds. "Bic ni skana'din... I do believe that you must have some hand to scare away... That or everyone here at this table has better information on you that I don't. I may be too stupid to care, or too drunk. Either way, I'll match your bet." Tros pushed his own remaining credit chips into the pot. As he drew his hands back for a drink, a small flash, only noticeable to him, blinked on his wrist pad. He used his left hand to pick up the drink and down what was given to him. As he did, he looked over the information that came back on the portal that was setup by his ori'vod. It gave up to date information on the Bounty Hunter's network, along with Holonet information and some black market networks. Getting the information quickly as he was used to, he set the drink down and placed both his wrists upon the table and eyed the Trandoshan with eyes that suddenly became much more narrow then before. "Your move ge'hutuun..."

Tros was careful as watching all of the other participants as they eyed their cards and began to place bets, and was very intrigued by the trandoshan who was very fast to place his bet. He took some more time to review his cards before just picking up the drink served to him and downed it all before he picked up the new cards dealt his way. As he lifted the cards up, some disappointment at seeing a 7 Flask and the Moderation card. "Another drink please, 4000 credits." His eyes had begun to slow drift over to the trandoshan, who was acting fairly strange. Same behaviors as Groavelshik on Nar Shaddaa when I brought him in... Tros began to wonder if the animal was cheating and focused in on him as he awaited his drink.

Tros took a long moment and stared at the seat that was offered up to him. He had never played sabacc outside of a short quick lesson from Reashe when the two were far younger and had much less worry on their minds. Granted, that was a long time ago, but he still remembered some details of how to play. And since the first round would be free for him, he figured he could easily risk it. He finally walked up and sat down, removing his buy'ce and placing it upon the table and held up a hand to get the waiter's attention. "The strongest drink you can serve. I'm going to need it to stay in longer then one round." Since the entry bet was already covered, he got a chance to look at his first two cards. Much to his own disappointment, he held the Commander and The Star. Those are some di'kut cards to be dealt. I sit at -5. He used his own skills of being a beroya to keep his emotions off his face. He looked across the table and eyed a very cute player who kept part of his eye upon him. "Two hundred thousand in both pots..."

Tros kept his mouth quiet for the most part, with the exception of letting out pain grunts as the somewhat large needles pierced his skin. The pain was temporary and compared to other wounds he had received over his time made the injections seem small. After the medical procedures were done, he took a moment to look at the nurse as she spoke of him remaining several weeks. It was then that he spoke finally. "What the goddamn hell? Several weeks?! Fier’Fek this is getting to be a bit more then what I thought." Pushing through the pain, he swung his own feet over the examination table and shoved the medical droid away. He then began to get dressed into his armor. The nurse made a very overt display of flirting, but she wasn't his type. Mainly due to the fact that she didn't have on her body the parts that would excite him. So he instead opted to head up to observe the games on level five, the Red Viceroy room if he remembered correctly. If that proved to hold some fun, he may join in. Otherwise, he would observe and drink until tomorrow as he would continue to have his injections for several weeks.

Tros almost gave a hard stare at the nurse, but refrained from doing so due to the nature of his contract that he was accepting with the Red Dawn. luckily, his buy'ce hid his facial expression, which would've easily have shown his displeasure for being asked such a question. After a few seconds passed by, he simply nodded and began to take his beskar'gam off, which had now become a collection of those of whom he had loved. Each piece now belonged to someone else during one time or another. Once he was finished, he made sure his sentiments of taking care of his equipment to the nurse as he put the smock on. It was rather indecent, even my medical standards. But he didn't care as much, mainly due to it being a female nurse that was not humanoid, and secondly because the credits upon which he would receive completely outweighed whatever uncomfortableness he may feel. Finishing up, he turned around and gave a slight nod to the nurse to let her know that he was okay with whatever was next for him to do.

Tros looked at the gold item placed within his open hand for a brief second before he gave a slight nod back to the Red Dawn member. He was then quick to put his buy'ce back on as he started to move upstairs two levels to begin this process of making at the very least, his face, very well known throughout the galaxy. It was something new to him, seeing as he wasn't used to people seeing his face. Better to do it now, I guess. As he walked, he kept looking down at the gold card, observing his name on it. It seemed rather odd to him, to be doing such a large task to quickly after he was apart of a war on the home planet of his people. But my home... Shogun, most of the Clans... they were all almost wiped out during that bloody conflict. This is my chance to repopulate Clan Ardell... He found himself staring at the door into the medical wing, feeling every weight of his own breath, due to both his own hesitation and his lungs still recovering from the sniper shot. The hot sun, even indoors on this planet were beginning to take it's toll on him. A good thing they'll help with the healing process. After a good three seconds passed by, he walked through the door and stopped at the front desk. "I am Tros Ardell. I am here to have my DNA extracted, and to have treatment for a collapsed lung. I was given this ID card..." Tros handed the gold card over to to receptionist. From here, he was sure things were about to be speed along.

Tros quietly listened to the proposal given. It was intriguing for him, the thought of cloning. To have many just like him all over the galaxy, fighting... It was almost intoxicating. Let alone the very price tag on it would be exactly what he was looking for. Slowly nodding his head, he removed his buy'ce, which is something he rarely did in front of strangers. Putting it under one arm, he extended his other hand. "Ni vorer. Although my injuries aren't as bad as they seem. I took a sniper round to my lungs on Mandalore. I can move, just with great pain." Although within his own mind he had the thought the maybe the pain was a constant reminder of everyone he lost during that battle, and a sign of how weak the frontline had become before a victory was brought to bear.