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Qat Chrystac

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Expansion Region

Sector: Parnabe sector

System: Qat Chrystac system

Orbital Position: 2

Moons: 0

Grid Coordinates: L-5

 

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 4 Toxic/Full Envirosuit Required

Primary Terrain: Radioactive Lava, Volcanoes

Points of Interest: Old abandoned republic and imperial civil war infrastructure,

 

Societal Information None

Indigenous Species: None

Immigrated Species: Humans

Primary Language(s): Basic

Faction Affiliation: None

 

Defense Rating: N/A

 

History: Qat Chrystac is a radioactive wasteland of ash and magma, unscannable from orbit due to large radiation bursts and consistent electromagnetic blooms. However, hidden under the surface are some of the richest mineral deposits in the Expansion Sector. Just waiting to be exploited.

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I ate a hippo. It was delicious.

May the Forth therve you well...

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  • 2 weeks later...

The world of Qat Chrystac came into view as Saint exited hyperspace, flanked by her new prize. It would have been best spiritually to have paid the blood price for the ship, but with no shipyards to call their own, and the Sullustans being neutral, it would be too costly to the crusade in the long term to act rashly now. Fires that last are ones that are carefully built.

 

Qat Chrystac, Sullust, Mustafar, the galactic southwest seemed to have a running theme of lava planets. And this one now belonged to the Faithful. Its surface was a tumultuous riot of reds, oranges, yellows, and blacks, entrancing to behold and as awe invoking as it was deadly. With her neural link body glove back on, and a generic hazard suit over it, Saint went EVO and glided gracefully into one of the Venator’s open hangar bays to meet up with the Sullustan technicians.

 

“Everything moving smoothly?” She asked upon arriving at the bridge.

 

“We’re just finalizing a descent pattern and final contact point. Has anyone told you you’re crazy yet for trying this? Because you are.”

 

It was the chief engineer that was speaking, probably resorting to humor to overlook how dangerous what they were about to do was.

 

“When the galaxy explodes and you realize what a forward thinking genius I am, you’re welcome to join me in hiding under my super hard to find rock.”

 

“Please, I’m trying not to think about the holonews these days. You would think by now people would just tell the Sith and the Jedi to go find an empty corner of the galaxy to fight it out while the rest of us enjoy some measure of peace. Even the the Empire and the Alliance seem to be done with fighting each other. Sealing all access points and coordinating towcraft for landing. Brace for atmo.”

 

The Venator began its descent, guided by a number of craft and its own repulsor engines, firing for the last time ever. But this wasn’t the end for the ship, just a transformation into a new purpose. Fire from reentry wreathed the ship and it buckled under the strain.

 

“The Sith and Jedi, they’re ideas. You can’t kill ideas. It’s a slugging match between unkillable immortals. And we’re all along for the ride. So learn to ride the storm and maybe you’ll find yourself somewhere you want to be.”

 

“Says the maniac riding a capital ship like a meteor into a world that I’m pretty sure the gods used as a basis for hell.”

 

“You’re from a volcanic world.”

 

“Yes, but this is clearly a different beast. I mean what benevolent force in the galaxy says “You know what, this lava isn’t dangerous enough, let’s make it cancer lava,” No thank you.”

 

“Be nice to the cancer lava, we’re close enough that it can hear you.”

The ship groaned and strained during the final phase of the descent, and contact was rough enough that everyone ended up on the floor, but shield and hull integrity held. It had worked. As everyone clamored to their feet, a few exultant whoops and cheers could be heard, as everyone reveled in their not deadness. The chief engineer addressed her again, going over final details.

 

“Our techs are going to finish marking doors that lead to hot zones in the structure, you’ll either want to permanently seal them or create decon units at those points. We stocked up some radsuits at various areas, just ask the computer if you need one. The hangar is a hot zone, so you’ll need to suit up even if the hangar bay is closed while you go to any of your ships. I would suggest an orbital platform for decon and resupply, but not directly above your location because otherwise what’s the point of trying to hide this hard?”

 

“Your wisdom is appreciated, senior engineer. I will send praise to your superiors.”

 

The Sullustan techs finished their work and departed, leaving Saint to her thoughts. The ship had landed parallel to a mountain ridge on the right, and the bridge tower had a spectacular view of the molten glass planescapes to the left. It reminded her of images of Shogun that Bolt had shown her. This is where the faithful would be reborn.

In orbit, and encrypted beacon waited for the worthy.

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Rose poked exploratorily at the layers of bacta bandages on her arms and legs. She didn’t feel a thing, just like the doctor had said. Most pain nerves had been fried in the balst on the right side of her body, and where they hadn’t been, pain relievers were being heavily injected into her blood by a hanging bag above her bed. The doctors had said that they were were going to a planet named Qat. Which sounded weird enough, but they had been bound by blood and by vision. When she spoke, her normal Lorrdian accent was hoarse and gravelly from her prolonged unconsciousness.

 

She looked to her two rescuers, the reptilian soldier and the blonde waif.

 

“So I’m alive? I feel half langered." She let out a sharp laugh and turned a smile up to them. "All thanks to you lot.”

 

Kad Ha'Rangir's grace was truly upon me. Baptized by fire and the blood of enemies and allies alike into his service.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Borsk looked down at the broken girl, lying on the ship's hospital small hospital bed, surronded by a sea of assorted medical equipment. Surprisingly, the strangely happy attitude that pervaded the human still remained, undaunted by her current situation. Even the veteran Trandoshan, who had seen many injuries and many deaths, had rarely seen someone's body so destroyed and survive. The veteran felt tempted to slap her hand as it wandered over the wound, but restrained himself behind his normal impassive countenance. Apparently, they were visiting some annoying hot planet, without sand and sun and covered in lava.

 

He looked back down, an uninterested grunt escaping him as he ground out a few words in common, "You look like shab."

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  • 3 weeks later...

Charlatan…

 

With her eyes gleaming a metallic emerald, the former deathwatch assassin moved her way through the heat and inhospitality of the new world. A new world for their people, the Crusaders reborn, far from the machinations of Arasuum’s corruption of sloth. She breathed in the ferverant air, letting it scorch her lungs. She exhaled with a smile, the dirstant reflection of the lava-fields in her eyes

 

“Gorram beautiful. Home.”

 

A fizzling pop on her datapad indicated an oncoming radioactive storm, and so she made her way back to her compatriots, letting the sultry air give her steps strength. She nudged the awakened girl with the tip of her boot, giving a small wink to the Trandoshan

“Glad you’re awake ad'ika

 

She didn’t particularly care the woman surpassed her own years by more than enough to make the statement awkward.

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To the Death...

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“Of course I look and feel like Bantha shite, thats how almost dying works brother and sister.” Rose spoke with a smile on her face. She moaned and fully sat up in bed, she hauled her legs over to the side and slowly stood. Her body trembled a bit and she reached to her satchel and grabbed a dosage metre of Gylocal, and slammed the auto-injector into her thigh. She sighed almost euphorically and slipped off the medical tunic and pulled on a new set of skin tight underweave. She flicked a smile over her shoulder to the Trandoshan and the younger girl as she pulled up the zipper.

 

“So I assume we have a mission? Has anyone seen Saint? I have a vision I want to tell her about.”

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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A comm comes in for the Mandalorian Crusaders, requesting a few agents that had been previously employed. The face of a Katarn class armoured helmet stared almost lifelessly through the holoprojector, the voice one recognizable from any Clone Wars Holodrama.

 

"...A million credits for a successful defense and a quarter million paid to the clans who loose members. You are all requested to come as soon as possible to the Onderonian Defense Golan, and report to the commanders there for assignment and credit chits."

 

The face cut out and was replaced by the spiked eclipse of the Black Sun.

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Commander - Darkhand Brigade - Sith Empire

Blood Prince

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Borsk smiled, his rows of sharp teeth gleaming as the call came in for war, glory and credits. The time of relative peace after the invasion of the kriffing furries had come to an end. He quietly murmured to himself in his native tongue, "Enough credits, perhaps, to buy a new ship, to make a new crew. Perhaps I can overcome the curse of this wretched sword."

 

Turning his attention to the human whom he and Terra had saved, he gripped her forearm with a rough handshake, the claw-like nails at the end digging against her skin and his hard scales brushing against the smooth flesh of the other mercenary, "Up Again? Good to see, blood and battle awaits. I must speak alsso with boss."

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The others had come, literally following her to into Hell. It was equally rapturous and sobering to see people so willing to sacrifice to reclaim the warrior culture that had uplifted all of them. She had been in her quarters looking over files, both of Death Society cells and mercenary groups that would be suitable to build a foundation for this new crusade. It would be the first members that established the face of this holy undertaking, so a massive rallying cry to arms would most like do more harm than good. Too many Death Society soldiers were little better than terrorists, bitter whining cowards who railed at the state of Mandalore in their hidden group therapy sessions instead of taking the steps necessary to find their own path to the Last Settlement. She would need people who saw the value in a life dedicated to growth through conflict.

 

Warriors, rather than just mercenaries.

 

Saint wrapped up things in her quarters and headed over to the medbay to check on the others. It was a strange thought that Qat Chrystac’s deadly nature could invoke so much tension in the engineers that assisted the landing, when they routinely made vessels that crossed an equally deadly and unforgiving void. Perhaps the void had become mundane to them, so commonplace that its true nature felt contained. Was the same true of the Mandalorians these days? Did the galaxy feel that they had domesticated them? Maybe they had, or maybe Kad Ha’rangir had forsaken his people when they failed all those centuries ago, and the fire within had gone out.

 

“Glad to see that your fight isn’t over yet, Rose. Black Sun is paying way too much for us to help them dig in at Onderon. Terra and Borsk, go to the Dxun moon and establish a foothold, I’ll divert mercenaries with proper combat experience to your command while we train fresher recruits here on Qat Chrystac. Rose and I will go to Tatooine to follow up on some leads on a mercenary band that will prove useful.”

 

***************

 

In orbit, construction began on an orbital station with the equivalent firepower of a Golan III that would also function as a communications hub and supply drop station. A comm is sent to Sollust to begin the construction of another Fane of Storms class ship.

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The reptile’s sharp and clawed scales dug into the pale flesh of her arm, leaving ridged lines of pink where abrasions had formed. She had no love of Trandoshans, but they were a useful, if not easily manipulated bunch of cold blooded killers. She nodded at his hissed words, her blonde plait bouncing on her shoulder as she walked with him. With a wry smile, the former assassin snapped a sloppy salute to Saint as he gave her orders.

 

...A servant of my brother, more blood for his throne…

 

Terra gritted her teeth at the idea of carrying out orders from anyone, but she knew it was for the greater good. A stronghold on the Inner Rim would be an apt tool for creating echoes with which to manipulate the galaxy, especially one with such an storied history for their people.

“Right away. We’ll get it done.”

 

With a nod to the Trandoshan, she made her way to her ship, and departed from the devastating world, to a world more suited for her tastes.

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To the Death...

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“Al'verde!” Rose’s voice was guttural and excited as she nearly sprang to her feet, stopping only to steady herself on the edge of the bed. She saluted briefly before sinking back down on the medbay bed, her legs wobbly and weak. She yearned for another dose, but kept her twitching fingers away from her utility belt.

 

She leaned down and began to stretch her lithe muscles with the athletic grace of a ballerina to distract herself and her commander from her weakness. “Then to Tatooine we will kriffing go.” She laughed. “Not much there but an unhappy sack of sand and moisture farmers though." She tucked a blue lock behind her hair. “And where in this spasted planet can I get a new set of beskar'gam?”

 

Al'verde - Commander

Beskar'gam - Armour

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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"Bolt was muttering something to himself about working on a new alloy, in the meantime just kitbash something together. While the planet itself has little of value, there's a mercenary specializing in gunships that is currently spinning his wheels there. Thyrsian, shows promise. Gather your gear and we'll take a shuttle up to my ship."

 

Once everything was prepared, the two Crusaders left on a shielded shuttle for orbit, transferred over to Saint's ship, and departed for Tatooine.

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  • 2 months later...

In the skies above the dismal, blasted world of at Chrystac, the fledgling construction facilities owned by the mandalorian conglomerate of Iron-Pantheon began to slowly construct the first of the Neo-Crusader vessels slated for conquest.

 

 

Heart of Iron

Ship Class: Capital

Type: Neo-Kandosii

Crew: 20,000 crew

Armaments:

50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries

50 Rail Gun Batteries

20 Super-heavy concussion missile launchers

20 Point Defense Laser cannons

10 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors

Compliment:

4,000 Troops,

4 Bes'uliik squadrons

2 M22-T Krayt gunship Squadrons

2 M3-A Scyk fighter Squadrons

Completion Date: 5/24/2018

AP: 4

 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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  • 1 month later...

Neo-Kandosii Battleship Charybdis emerged from the shipyards and maintained orbit over the fledgling Crusader stronghold. While a second Battleship, Scylla, begins construction.

 

 

Charybdis

Type: Capital Ship

Class: Neo-Kandosii Battleship

Length: 1,500m

Crew: 15,000

Gunners: 700

Armament:

50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries

50 Rail Gun Batteries

10 Super-heavy concussion missile launchers

20 Point Defense Laser cannons

10 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors

Compliment:

4,000 Troops,

4 Bes'uliik squadrons

2 M22-T Krayt gunship Squadrons

2 M3-A Scyk fighter Squadrons

AP: 4

 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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  • 1 month later...

The whirlwind of hyperspace was enchanting. Never before had she been so close to its embrace, the flickering hypnosis that had driven countless species to explore. It was no wonder the basilisk riders of old had been rumored to be insane, she could feel the pull of the galactic. The siren song of insanity. She could feel its whispers chasing her ears, pulling on her hair, invading her waking dreams.

 

Hades shuddered and Qat Chrystac spun into view. From the perspective Terra had, it felt as though she was falling, dragged by the planet against her will. The glow of the lava was visible in the shadowed side of the desolate world, etching thousands of patterns into the radioactive stone.

 

“Basilisk Rider…”

 

A voice crawled into her skull, projected by her embedded comlink. The voice was harsh and female.

 

    • “Bitter forged gods bathe us in their rivers
      Their tears are wasted on the lost”

Terra cooly replied, her voice barely a whisper driven from memory

 

    • “The pain of men at odds will never wither
      Death takes the unaware without cost”

 

She followed it up after a second with a command

 

“Demagol Station, this is Mandalore the Heartless, formerly Blackwraith Greyjoy. Direct me to a landing pad, and have Fox meet me there.”

 

There was a stammering affirmative and a set of landing instructions directed them towards a large orbital station, surrounded by the Neo-Kandosii battleships. As Hades made its way into the awaiting maw of the station, Terra observed its construction. Demagol Station was made from a cluster of orbital asteroids, hallowed out to ensure adequate living space. It was covered in a hodgepodge of solar arrays, and blistered with the bubbling canopies of agrarian farming centers.

 

The Mandalorian turned to Tros as they landed, leaping from the Basilisk to the hardened flooring of sheer stone. She stretched and motioned with her arm to the expansive hanger-bay, filled with basilisks that were being constructed. A small force of mandalorians approached, wearing armour of a variety of clans.

 

“Welcome to Demagol station, population: Mandalorian Crusaders and those we are training to be us. A room is yours, I will be assembling a force briefing as soon as the rest of our friends arrive. Until then, I can give you a tour if you like.”

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To the Death...

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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.

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

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In the construction facilities that stretched for kilometeres beside Demagol Station, the mandalorian shipyard conglomerate of Iron-Pantheon released its second Neo-Kandosii Battleship. Then began laying the kilometers of scaffolding required for the construction of the mighty Super Star Destroyer equivalent Medusa

 

 

Scylla

Type: Capital Ship

Class: Neo-Kandosii Battleship

Length: 1,500m

Crew: 15,000

Gunners: 700

Armament:

50 Heavy Turbolaser Batteries

50 Rail Gun Batteries

10 Super-heavy concussion missile launchers

20 Point Defense Laser cannons

10 Heavy Tractor Beam Projectors

Compliment:

4,000 Troops,

4 Bes'uliik squadrons

2 M22-T Krayt gunship Squadrons

2 M3-A Scyk fighter Squadrons

AP: 4

 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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“Terra, you never fail to surprise me.

 

The young Assassin spun on her heels, slipping out of her buy’ce as she did so. She met the grizzled veteran with a smile of darkmetal. He returned it with a grimace, but his hazel eyes smiled. His hair was even more grey since they had been on Manda’yaim together last, during the civil war there.

 

“Harjav Fieldgrey, I’m glad you’ve come.”

 

The man motioned to the rest of the squad as they showed up, the of twins Arna and Longkra matched with the lovers Aoarn and Bas’ar. They were all much better equipped than last she had seen them, wearing true Beskar’gam in black and crimson. Her eyes wandered to each other theirs and they saluted. Terra paused her search and offered a query

 

“Where is Shen?”

 

Harjav shook his head slowly and sighed before he gave an answer

 

“Shen took a squad of greens to explore the Maw, haven’t heard from his shebs since. We expect they didn’t make it to planetfall.”

 

Terra cursed softly, a twinge of remorse flooding over her. The old man had been a trusted squaddie since long before the failed insurrection of the Deathwatch. She eyed Tros as he wandered away, memory stirring. Shen had been part of the mission where she had killed Tros before, during the assassination of Senators on Coruscant under orders of Darth Furion. The young assassin was glad to be away from the control of the Sith. Their leash was far too restrictive. The twin’s AI chirped its own query

 

“Will we be mustering our forces to strike Manda’yaim? Is this why you brought us here, Heartless?”

 

Terra pointed towards her heart

 

“I will not stain our homeworld with blood again. A false Mandalore reigns there in Arasuum’s name, but there is a far greater threat on our doorstep then the workings of a weakling.”

 

Hades shuddered behind her, its armoured scales folding and writhing like muscles beneath flesh.

 

“We must strengthen the galaxy to fight a greater war then has ever come before. We must take on wild space, tame it to our desires while we wrest the Core from the crumbling empires of entropy.”

Harjav pulled up his datapad, bringing up a newstream. It was from Huttspace, oddly enough one of the few places to get unbiased news reporting these days, unless it included the slave trade of smuggling.

 

“We were watching reports before your arrival, the battle of Onderon claimed most of the Galactic Alliance Fleet, and the Jedi Fleet for that matter. The Sith are executing Jedi in the streets…”

 

Terra nodded, unsurprised by the outcome.

 

“Strike while the iron is hot.”

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To the Death...

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  • 2 weeks later...

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."

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Rose let a sloppy grin cross her face as they arrived at the Mandalorian Crusader Redoubt at Qat. There was massive construction and at least two of the Super Battleships which were fully crewed and ready to become the vanguard of the Crusading Mandalorians. The Black Sun agents on board looked out with nervous eyes at the expansive shipyards and defenses. She could denote a Golan III building alongside the shipyards and Rose looked towards Canderous as they made their landing approach.

 

“We will fight together for a long time to come Canderous, perhaps after we meet Mandalore we can work on some pair fighting? If we get into another situation that we are overwhelmed in I want us to be able to work in tandem.”

As they departed the made their way in to the crowd that surrounded Mandalore the Heartless that appeared to be about to make a speech. She reached out and place a blue gloved hand on the shoulder pauldron of Canderous’ armour. The eagerness and anticipation showing in her face for she had removed her helmet so that her short blue hair and beautiful face could be seen.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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The young woman who had been elected by Kad Ha’rangir to be his arbiter to the galaxy gazed across the mass of armoured men and women. Their faces showed joy and marvel. An eagerness for all the dreams and stories of their youths to be fullfilled. A crusade to rival their ancestors, to restore honour to their people. Many of the faces were weather-beaten and sun-browned, former farmers and peaceful men set piecemeal into the armour of their grandfathers. They may not have seen battle before but their souls were willing.

 

Mandalore the Heartless leapt above the crowd, propelled by Hades to land on his back where she balanced delicately, not seeming to sway at all upon the rippling armour plating of the basilisk. A hush fell upon the crowd as they looked upon her armour. It was pure black, an ebony that sparkled crimson, as if it was coated in a misting of blood. Her buy’ce was of the same sable design, the T-visor of shining gold, matched only by a circlet of gold about the helmet’s crown. She held out a hand and her people stood to attention, the soldiers first, followed by the untrained rabble. She removed her helmet, shaking out her long plait of dirty blonde hair. The warm glow of the asteroid’s fungal lighting illuminated the dusting of freckles about her face and concentrating across the bridge of her nose. She was much younger then most of them present, but the chosen of the Gods could be of any age. Her voice was joyful and powerful as she spoke, looking into the upturned eyes with a smile.

 

"Let those who have been accustomed to wage warfare against each other unjustly now go against the faithless and finish this war which should have been begun long ago. Over the millennia our people have been lost to entropy, to the pitiful existence of dirt-farming and mercenary work. We have been bowed to Arasuum’s will by a false Mandalore, who sits upon a farmer's throne.”

 

A jeer rippled through the crowd. The derision was not for her, but for the one that had led them into darkness.

 

“Let those who for a long time, have been robbers, now become knights of Kad Ha’rangir. Let those who have been fighting against their brothers and relatives now fight in a proper way against those barbarians that rule this galaxy. Jedi, Sith… Imperials or Galactic Alliance. Their allegiance is of little concern, they are bound together in their weakness. Ripe for the plunder.”

 

A cheer rose, a harrowing howl of the desperate and delighted. ‘Havoc’ was the cry, and it made their Mandalore smile brightly. She shouted over their cheers.

 

“Let those who have been serving as mercenaries for aruetyc now obtain an eternal reward for their true people. Let those who have been wearing themselves out in both body and soul to scrape a living from the dirt now work for a double honor."

 

Silence grew and the feeling of reverence blossomed, a holiness in the rejection of their old lives. There was a clatter of armour as every mandalorian went to one knee, be they man or woman, high born or peasant. They one people now.

 

“We are Kad Ha’Rangir’s chosen. Rise as His crusaders.”

 

She paused and unfurled a banner from the back of Hades. It was a silver Mythosaur skull, encircled by an ouroboros, on a background of crimson. It would be their Oriflamme. This time her shout was both an order and an invitation.

 

RISE AS ONE! We strike first for the heart of a weakened and dying galaxy. It will be reborn in our image.”

 

She slipped her buy’ce over her head, and the golden circlet shimmered in the warm light. All about her basilisks began to rise and shake from their slumber.

 

“Coordinates: Triple Zero.”

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To the Death...

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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.

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

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Never had my sight gazed upon such power, such command, as I did this day upon Qat, its mesmerizing sounds and look nearly sweeping me away into a dream as I stood among Rose and the masses that had flocked upon the call of war. It was beautiful, poetic, and inspiring. And it called to my heart like a grasp of righteousness. Even beneath the helm that covered my Miralukian face, I could help but smile, as a tear strolled down my face, humbled by what I was standing there, witnessing.

 

"I agree." I spoke in return to Rose' request as we ventured forward out amongst the masses, the golden glimmer of the Mythosaur Helm shimmering in the glowing lights that illuminated the whole as we walked onward. Feeling Rose' gloved hand, I pressed my helmed cheek against in, my gaze shifting toward her momentarily before returning back toward Mandalore as she spoke. "I do not wish to lose you again."

 

The speech itself grasped me to the core, the very blood within my form boiling with the notion of war, of honor, of soul. It swept across me like a blanket of ecstasy as I was taken in by her words, my hand unconsciously tracing the outline of the helm that remained clipped to my hip, the words of Kad Ha'rangir echoing through my mind and heart. I found myself soon following in suit as the mass responded to each word spoken, carried away by the sheer feeling that swept across us entirely. Truly, our beloved God was with us this day, his embrace comforting and true. Soon I could my own helm within my hand, raised high for all to see as the cheers swept across the lands, my eyeless gaze exposed to all.

 

Canderous Bralor had finally returned. I was home at last. And I smiled brazenly at that very notion.

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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The spiteful strength of this Mandalore drove him in a flurry of admiration. She was so young but already had brought together more warbands and clans then he ever had. It filled his heart with joy to see this Mandalore and as he approached he knucked his grey helmet and inclined his head. His warband of four hundred men and women knelt behind him, their standard of a red lion on black tartar lowered in honour, every Clan Augustus’s soldier had both arms clasped over their chests.

 

“House Augustus pledges its loyalty to you Mandalore.”

 

It was not an easy thing for this prideful man to say. For his heart yearned to find the Arasuum leader of the pitiful farmers and rip his heart still beating from his chest in revenge for all that he had done to neuter his own people. But that would come later, and the Augustines would fight for her. Hundreds of generations of Mandalorians flipped sides with his standard. And they would now be damned forever under the eyes of the Arasuum, but not a single of the four hundred cared, for there were tears of joy in their eyes.

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Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur

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She could feel the strength of the woman, how the furor of Kad Ha’rangir possessed her and drove her to do his bidding. It was a sight that brought tears to the eyes of Rose, tears of hope for her own future, for her future after death, for there was nothing more pure than this crusade. To purge the weak from the galaxy was the highest goal and though objectively cruel, she would never turn away from this quest. They were Kad Ha’rangir’s soldiers now, and no one could judge them but their God.

 

She looked to Canderous and smiled, flashing her white teeth as her hand moved along with her speech in the kinetic language of her people. “Then we will fly together on a pair of Bes'uliik, and we will not fall. Or loose each other in the melee. There is no place closer to our God then riding on the back of a metal machine with space a hair's breadth away. ” She grabbed his shoulder pauldron and spun him towards two crimson painted war beasts made of mandalorian iron. Then she let the glove brush gingerly over his helmet to stop him for a moment while she pressed her own helmeted brow to his. “I won’t loose you too Canderous.” Her voice sounded suddenly scared and desperate, before she let her helmet withdraw.

 

Then she was sprinting to the Bes'uliik.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Beneath my helm, I smiled at Rose' words, a sense of cherishment washing over my form, our bond growing not only through the emotions of the moment, but through the emotions within our hearts as well. Truly, Kad Ha'rangir could be felt across Qat's entirety, sweeping across the land like the warmth of renewed fire rising from its heated coals, the entirety of the Mandalorian spirit rebirthing from long dead ideals. And for myself and Rose, we would be no different, a simple spark amidst the renewing flame.

 

"Then may we forever chase the glory of honor in his name," My words would echo both from beneath my helm and within hers, a sense of endearment lingering upon them as my hands caressed her arms. Rising with her, I turned toward the two crimson beasts and pointed to each before her departure. "Like the ancients hounds of old whom chased the sun and moon, so shall we chase them in his crusade. I name your mount after Sköll, whom chased away the light, and mine Hati, whom always followed behind within the darkness."

 

And as I watched her walk away, I turned my own gaze toward the metallic beast before me, a glimmer of sentience within its gaze. I reached up, placing my hand upon its form, running it across towards its front, an almost symbiotic understanding left unspoken as we simply looked upon each other. "Yes. Hati suits you just fine." I said. "Together, you and I, will ride the waves of darkness. Let the galaxy begin to quake."

 

With that, I mounted Hati, patting her armored places once I settled myself, the twin beskar blades crossing my back as I took control and began lifting the Bes'uliik into the air. All across Qat as the crusade began its rising, a singular set of words echoed as one by the mouths of all....

 

"For Mand'alor!

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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  • 6 months later...

The Star Dreadnought Medusa emerged from its restraints like an iron beast, its thick armour bristling with weapons, all around the outpost cries of joy and battled echoed as the ship made a gallant turn and entered hyperspace towards the core worlds. 

Meanwhile another battleship entered production to replace the one lost over coruscant. 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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  • 2 years later...

Swift Justice and The Trident made a quick landing and the small band of Mandalorians began to unload what they could. Tros quickly gave orders to re-establish the old outpost base that Terra had setup for her House upon her full reign. Tros stood back and watched for a moment, grateful for the entire team that was slowly transforming into a new House of Mandalore. As he let out a sigh, his own breath felt like a heat wave under his buy'ce. The heat from the planet made things really hot, and they would remain so until the outpost was fully brought back up to operational level. The amount of sweat that he was producing was currently at a rate to fill up a few buckets worth if he wanted. 

 

A message popped up along his HUD, a beacon of sort had been activated and signaled to him for some reason. Turning his head towards his left and away from watching his vod work, he quickly read through the message. :::Onderon, launching point. Return home effective immediately. Command will instruct upon arrival.::: Tros read through the message three times to make sure he understood what was being asked of him. As he finished the third time, Vulios came to him and tilted his own head at him, eyebrow raised. His own buy'ce was not on him. "Problem?" Tros turned his head towards Vulios. "Maybe not. I got a message of some sorts, from a beacon. Onderon is the heart of Sith Empire... Maybe our fortune is fully turning in the direction that we want." Tros played it for Vulios. "I wouldn't go alone, yet I wouldn't take everyone. Besides, we still have a lot of work to be done here to get our home base up." Tros didn't say much of anything outside of nodding his head before looking at his own ship, Swift Justice and then back at Vulios. "You're in command until I get back. Keep a channel open. I'm taking Kot’dral Duvul. We'll report in when we find out what's going on." Without much of another word, he walked towards his ship, giving a quick hand signal to Kot'dral to follow. The two were off planet within thirty minutes. 

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Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore.

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