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Chandrila


Tarrian Skywalker

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Twenty more minutes later, the last few people had boarded the escape shuttles which now began lifting off, headed for the safety of the Jedi ship formation, and then to hyperspace. Aidan was back on his own shuttle, having received orders to escort the shuttles. In the back of his ship, he began meditating, reaching out as best he could, subtly tying the minds of the shuttle pilots together so they could more easily function as a unit. It wasn't easy, but by now Aidan was used to struggling over his Force abilities.

Minutes later, the shuttles flashed into hyperspace, winking out of the system. Aidan's group was safe.

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As the orphans began to be evacuated to the outer frontiers of Chandrilian space, and as one by one the shuttles and capital ships departed, the Jedi began their withdrawl. 

((Kel make your way to Nar Shaddaa with 20 orphans. I will give you another mission when you arrive there))

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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A thousand eyes watched as the pearl white blade crashed off grey mandalorian armour in a horrendous electrical discharge. The shock of the impact rattled up her arm, jarring her entire body as she hurled herself into the swing. She could taste blood in her mouth, sudden and bitter. The reward for biting her tongue on the slash.

She concentrated on pulling the lightsaber up to the thin neck of the Mandalorian even as a blaster bolt from her tore open the armour over her left breast.

And there they were.

Lightsabre to neck and blaster to exposed flesh.

A draw, in its conclusions, that caused a roar from the Mandalorians surrounding them in the circle. A smile passed between the women and they stepped apart. Both having accomplished their goals. With the departure of any familiar presences in the force, the Jedi Fleet had made its escape, and with them the provisional government and the occupants of the orphanages. And Chandrila was open for conquest.

She stepped away, saluted with her sabre and winced at the burned flesh below her collarbone.

Within the hour, Sandy Sarna had departed for Nar Shaddaa and the Mandalorians had conquered the last vestiges of the Core.

((Arranged three day with Chris over text. He is completely wiped out by clinicals/finals))

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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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. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Everyone was always leaving. Turning pages of life to newfound quests and emotions. Dying and leaving her behind.

 

Damn them. Damn Roar Roar and his loving smile. Damn his replacement that had died of his wounds a few days ago. Even all of her squadron mates from the battle of coruscant had died. She was the evermore survivor, and even rumours had penetrated the ranks about the tie of the Jedi master and Mandalore. So they took out their passions on the peaceful planet of Chandrila. Casualties were light, and they remained that way.

 

Anyone that held a weapon or defended their property or women were put to the sword. And in the aftermath there was silence. There was the honour of hellfire. And ash fell from the sky of the crystal world like a heavy snow. There was little honour in the deed. There were no great fighters in the rank and file of the core worlds. The Jedi had all fled and with them any backbone this system had left. There was no honour in gunning down civilians who cowarded behind their children under the guns of the Crusading Mandalorians. Rose had been raised Dar'manda, outside the law of the Mandalorians under their weak ruler. But her and her men were not monsters. Much of the planet and its military installations were glassed as they should be.

 

“Chaff to the Wind.” She whispered to Lix Tetrax as they made their way to the Mandalorian super dreadnought. The fleets were assembling, the fleet now numbered three battleships, a cruiser, and the dreadnought. Far and above enough to take on the Arasuumite Mandalore. It was their destiny. And Terra had decreed the invasion of their ancestral homeworld to be the justification for their crusade. 

 

They would find honour. They would find Glory. 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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And just like that, Chandrila's footnote was claimed, a mere stepping stone toward a greater honor. The battle had been but a blur for me, my actions not of my own, but the guiding hand of Kad Ha'rangir, an instrument within its grasp. I was merely along for the ride, a passenger meant only to bare witness. And when I regained control of my form, I sat there, floating among the stars as I gazed into the abyss of infinite.

 

Then I felt a tug upon my waist, my harness disturbed by Hati's awakening form as she came back online. Reaching out and grabbing the line, I slowly pulled myself toward her. My muscles ached, my flesh burned, and my mind grasped at unattainable straws as I tried to piece together what happened.

 

I managed to reach her and climb upon her saddle, my blinded gaze looking about into the debris and mutilated forms that surrounded me. But no life existed, only death. But that held no surprise for me. For death was one of my oldest companions, always there to claim everything i cherished and constantly remind me of who i was, a Dar'Manda, foremost and forever. Only now, I was a Dar'Manda of Kad Ha'rangir, a cursed and soulless being forged from the fires of death its self. Patting Hati, we headed toward the Dreadnaught that laid ahead of us, and when we landed, both of us fell out upon it's cold durasteel plating. Rest was what I needed, but there was no rest for the wicked in my singular case.

 

Moments would pass us by as we laid there, finally a few of our kin coming to our rescue as I felt the tug upon my form as my armor was discarded and bandages soon adorned cuts and bruises. Laying there in silence, unaware of what had transpired, I began to wonder upon the horizon of what my life was beginning to unfold. Was I truly the voice of Kad Ha'rangir?

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Tros closed his eyes as ships from the surface began to return back to the fleet. He could feel something stir deep within him. It was something small, yet so very familiar to him that it was almost impossible to ignore. He had felt it before, many times before. His own eyes opened to observe the planet before him behind his buy’ce. The fire from the planet below was evident even from space. He let out a very loud sigh, which must have caught the attention of Vrax. 

 

“Is everything alright al’verde?”

 

The million-credit question was asked. To answer simply, no. But how could he even begin to phrase that to the man next to him. To the man who was older and had seen so much more. The man whom Terra had personally recruited on Dxun. There was nothing he could say to him that would convey what he felt stirring deep below. With a slight head turn towards the man, his voice became softer than what it had been since they were paired up upon the ship. 

 

“It could be nothing… It’s not worth bringing up at the moment. We can talk later. For now, prep the ships for departure from this this system.”

 

Tros held his stance at the viewport for a few seconds before he turned abruptly on his heels and left the bridge, leaving Vrax to stand there alone. He for now he had to get himself alone to think. So the best place for him to that was the commander’s quarters. He quickly walked in and shut the door behind, tossing very casually his buy’ce to the side. It bounced off the wall and landed upon the bed where it rested. But he ended up sitting at the table that was offered up for the quarters. He sat and stared out of the viewport within the room and allowed for his mind to run wild. He reached for a drink that was on the other side of the table, which was bottle of Whyren’s Reserve, to which he quickly poured himself a full glass of it to drink as he was left alone to his own thoughts. 

 

But his time alone was rather short, as only after his third swig of the drink did he hear a knock at the door. Tros shifted himself slightly and shouted come in, which was followed by Vrax entering the room and shutting the door behind him, which was a clear sign that the man wanted to talk privately. Of everything that Vrax was, subtle wasn’t one of them. Perhaps a trait almost too common with all Mandalorians. His own comfort with Tros went on display as he walked right up to the table and sitting down while pouring a glass of whiskey himself all within a shift motion. 

 

Al’verde, you can be as dangerous as a Trill beast and twice as cunning as the next man. But something that you are not is subtle.” Tros let out a very quick laugh, followed by him taking another swig before responding. “Yeah, I just had the same thought about you. I guess being subtle isn’t a trait amongst us.” The comment drew a soft laugh from Vrax before he took a swig himself. There was about three seconds that passed before either of them spoke. “I know your face very well al’verde, as I have been in shoes before when I was much younger. You’re beginning to doubt Kad Ha'rangir.” 

 

Tros turned and looked the older man in the face. His own eyes searching for the right words to say, but all that could come out was something that sounded like an attempt to find more air to inhale. Vrax could feel some sympathy for him and placed his left hand upon Tros’ shoulder. “There’s no need to defend yourself. Doubt is natural. Even more so from someone in your shoes.” Vrax then took his own eyes off of Tros along with his hand and stared out of the viewport before continuing. “You’ve been betrayed by your dar'buir, raised by no one. Went to war with a Mand'alor who wasn’t prepared for it. And now, served with one who is the complete opposite. Life hasn’t given you the best hand.” Vrax took a large and hard swig and then almost slammed the glass on the table. He then turned to directly look at him. “But you’re stronger because of it. And trust me, your gut is the best thing to follow, more so than any god that has ever existed within our culture.”

 

Tros slowly nodded his head and took a much smaller swig this time to finish off his own drink. He then pushed himself up from the table and offered up an arm to help Vrax stand. Upon the older man accepting the offer, Tros pulled him up and locked eyes with him. 

 

“I must resign my position then and return to my roots.”

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  • 2 weeks later...

Days passed as I laid upon a bed within the medbay, not much to do but stare up at the ceiling with the occasional wander around the room with my sight to hinder the onset of madness as my wounds healed. Most were minor, scratches, cuts, bruises. But the seared flesh of my thigh was what kept me bed ridden and from walking out that door. But in truth, even if I was capable, a part of me enjoyed the moment of solace. It gave me time to quiet my mind, gave me time to think on things that had been happening as of late, of Kad Ha'rangir, of my purpose in his name. And so I did in those moments that I laid awake after each bacta dressing was changed for fresh ones.

 

I was Dar'Manda. I was soulless. I held no place in the afterlife, in Manda. So why did he constantly call to me, invade my thoughts and control me at his every whim? I hadn't thought much about this since i accepted the offer on Tatooine during its invasion and the loss of Rose and Rru. I simply acted without thought, forever forward into his holy crusade as his hands because it gave me hope, it gave me purpose. I am Canderous Bralor, last of my clan, a lineage that dated back millennia. And I was the last due to our belief and ability to wield the Force. After all, any true warrior knew that you were supposed to use every weapon in your arsenal in order to gain victory. So why was my clan wiped out and I labeled Dar'Manda simply based upon such a powerful tool?

 

As i laid there, i occassionally looked over toward the ancient armor that my clan had passed down since the years of the Old Republic, nothing left save for the Beskar Chestplate and Pauldron that bore our emblem, the only pieces left of it, my own blood now staining it. I knew I would repair it with parts I could find, but what would be the point? Rumors had been beginning to circulate of Manda'lore's disappearance and that the Crusade was all but in shambles after this last fight. And for a singular moment, i felt Kad Ha'rangir had forsaken us.

 

"Rise Canderous." I heard the all too familiar voice speak, its otherworldly tone echoing so deeply in my head that I flinched in pain. "I have not forsaken you, only the leaders who led you down an unrighteous path."

 

I gripped the bridge of my nose to quell the pain of my head, removing the covers from my form and sitting up on the bed's edge. "Unrighteous path?" I questioned, my thoughts upon the crusade having brought honor and chaos in his name. How could it be unrighteous?

 

"They grew weak and complacent, fell to the allure of Arasuum, the allure of sloth." It spoke again, I finding myself confused even more by its words. We had won back Coruscant, rid the Galaxy of Kain, and defeated the Jedi here at Chandrilla. We were almost at Mandalore. So how had they fallen to Arasuum? "Have you recieved any orders Canderous? Have my followers left Chandrilla yet? No. For your leaders have none to give."

 

There were truth in his words. Aside from the gathered Forces, no new orders had been issued, no movement in days now, and an ominous mood had beset the men for days now. I had even begun to notice that there were less and less footsteps walking the halls. Even with my blinded sight, fewer and fewer caught my gaze. It was if they were scattering to the wind. But if that was the case, what could... or should I do? That was the question that had been plaguing my mind for days now.

 

"Rise and gather what remains of your armor and weapons." It spoke again as I rose from the bed to do so, almost buckling from the pain of the nearly healed leg as I did. "Go forth and preach the law of my word with your blades. Remind those of Arasuum that even through me, a Dar'Manda can regain his Manda."

 

Never did I suspect that my next mission (@saberforce) would pass by that very door the moment I exited it.

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Tros simply held out his hand to shake Vrax's, but found himself staring blankly at the man's face who held no such expression. After a long moment passed between the two of them, Vrax broke eye contact and looked at the doorway and allowed for a small smile to come to his face. "You are my al’verde. That means I will follow you, as I am sure that others will as well." He looked down at the floor to consider exactly what Vrax had just told him before looking back up. There was no need for more words. It was understood what was about to happen, so the two then put their buy'ce upon their head and walked back up to the bridge. Things didn't take very long for the word to spread that al’verde was resigning his position. Some had quickly shown their own disdain for the move, but there were some, a select few besides for Vrax who wanted to stay pledged to Tros, and so then also followed suit and resigned their own positions.

 

Tros had given them instructions to meet him in the hangar bay at his personal ship, Swift Justice. Then him and Vrax took a moment to make sure that the security and safety of the Crusaders were set with a solid commander to the rest of the crew to follow. Once everything was settled, Tros and Vrax headed off the bridge towards the hangar bay themselves. It was then that they had come across a Mandalorain who wore very old armor. It made Tros eye the warrior before him and come to a complete stop. He looked him over for a long second-which forced Vrax to speak up rather bluntly. "Tro’solus- you have but a single spot available on your ship. This one seems a little too damaged to fill that seat."

 

"Vrax-never call me Tro’solus again. And if you don't have a memory... I'm more damaged than anyone else that's already on that ship. What's your name?"

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It was a common occurrence, to be viewed as less than. I was a painful sting that I had bore my entire life. My clan had been wiped out by our very own people due to this, yet I had long let go the hatred I held for its stigmata. But as I stepped forth from the door in nothing but standard issue armorweave, the chest plate and pauldrons of my ancient armor in my arms along with my blades, I found myself face to face with its brunt realization once again, the sting never lessening as my blinded gaze fell upon the two before me.

 

"Canderous Bralor." I spoke as my face shifted to the side, the empty sockets of my Miraluka bloodline uncovered by the disguarded helm I could no longer hide beneath. "But most call me Dar'Manda."

 

His companion was like so many of our kin, their distaste for the tainted blood that coursed through my veins long considered a curse upon my Clan. I could never understand why some Mandalorians feared the Force, but we of Clan Bralor had always accepted it, another weapon of many within our ever filled arsenal. But this man before me, the one called Tro'solus, he reminded me much of Rose truth be told, and yet, there was something different about him even compared to her. Even though I was blind in the typical sense, I could still hear and see this as clear as day. "What did he mean by your ship, 'vod?"

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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  • 2 weeks later...

Tros almost had a slight rocking motion with his body as he listened to Canderous. Vrax who stood next to him clearly had his own thoughts on the situation, but wasn't going to argue the points, so he instead placed his hand on Tros' shoulder and then took his leave towards the hangar bay. Tros then waited for Vrax to fully leave the area before responding to Canderous. 

 

"My ship, Swift Justice. It has room for just one more on it. Me and a few others are leaving to return to my beroya roots to remind purpose. If you want, you can have that last spot. But I will warn you. I will not call you Dar'Manda, as you are still very much so manda. But if you don't wish to be called Canderous either, we can find a new name for you vod."

 

Trso then extended his hand as an official offering to Canderous who stood before him now. 

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I watched in silence as the second took his leave, the first offering up his words in private after he had taken his leave. Beyond my exposed sockets, I gazed upon his visage in wonderment. So many of our ilk had began to abandon our cause, and like the vod before me, I still sensed a purpose to be found through Kad Ha'rangir. Just as I was about to speak, my mouth open briefly just as a voice spoke inside my mind. "Follow."

 

"Canderous is fine if you are uncomfortable with my title," I spoke, extending my hand to meet his own. "But it is what I am. I have walked its path for far too long to know anything else, the last of my Clan, and no redemption to be found."

 

A half hearted smirk crept across my face. "Perhaps I will find it in following you."

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Formally Known as Hunter Of Shadows/Dark

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Tros looked at Canderous and could tell that the man before him was broken and lost, yet still held onto a purpose of sorts. The emotions he felt could be seen upon his body language as much as himself on a bad day. He spoke of redemption, and for some odd reason, it reminded him of his half-sister, Xae. Slowly, he nodded his head before speaking to Canderous. 

 

“Alright then. Vode an.” There wasn’t much more that needed to be said by Tros. Canderous had accepted and would join the slowly growing crew. He put his buy’ce back on and then headed towards the hangar bay for his ship, Swift Justice. After arriving, he was quickly greeted by Vrax with a nod until he reached the main pilot’s chair. Vulios Vuuku looked at him from the navigation spot and asked a simple question. 

 

“Where to al’verde?”

 

It was a very simple question, but one that he had some time to really think about what his answer was going to be. The Holonet was full of reports of organizations asking for different things, as his crew would be more then beneficial to reap rewards from taking on some of those larger bounty jobs. Turning his head towards the copilots chair where Vrax sat, he gave the man a quick nod. 

 

“Kessel. I’ll fill you guys on what the job is on our way there…”

Edited by saberforce

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  • 5 months later...

Bastards all

 

The ashen hillside was slippery with dislodged shale that would easily cut into feet and hands if she was not wearing her plastoid recreation of Beskar. The ‘T’ visor lifted to the sky, where the burning wreckage of the remains of the republic fleet lay as a hundred stars visible in the daylight sky. Somewhere in that mass of burning ships, the Mandalorian fleet was scattering to the four winds. The great crusader had fallen under a Jedi’s blade, and now she was yet again leaderless and alone. Except for perhaps that one she had held captive since coruscant. 

 

“Kail. Hurry along.” 

 

She waved at the man who was trailing her. There were new horizons to be found, and he would need a place to go. She could begrudge him that. He had fought hard, and this was no life to live. 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Dhonarr had a saying, "To the Victor goes the fate of all manner of beast that are felled." But today, the Jedi were the true victors. Ro grinned to himself. There was a certain poetry to the universe.

 

What of their Mandalore the Harbinger now? And where is their Lord Kad Ha’Rangir? How predictable that their mighty arrogance and gluttonous blood-lust would be so easily cut back down to size by none other than the Jedi.

How fast the faithful run and how quickly they fall when there is no pride or honor to be found among them.

 

At least Durose had had enough honor and pride to fight until his body gave out back on Coruscant. In an odd twist of irony, it was thanks to that turn of events that he had been given the chance feast his eyes on the show he had just witnessed.

Of course, the circumstances surrounding all this were far from the usual. Ultimately, Roshan had agreed to "shadow" Rose as an observer during their latest mission of conquest. The Mandalorians believed they were invincible. How could it hurt to allow him to learn their ways and see them in action before deciding to officially join their ranks? They had plenty more conquests to partake in after this one, did they not?

Truth be told, this was mostly a stalling tactic. His fight on Coruscant had beat him up significantly. In fact, it was probably the closest he had ever been to death. And since his "hospitalization" there had been little opportunity to escape. Rose was clear. It was join or die. But it would seem that his captor had taken a liking to him and Ro had done his best to play that to his advantage. If he was being honest, he had a soft spot for humans, too, especially the strong-willed female type. He knew she was different in nearly every way other than her species and her sex... but something about her reminded him of Victoria. Or perhaps that was some residual effects of his delirium speaking.

To be absolutely honest, he was a bit embarrassed about the whole Coruscant situation in its aftermath. Granted, Ro had a valid excuse. After all, he had been so badly wounded and lost so much blood that it was shocking he had remained standing for as long as he had. But now after making a full recovery and getting to know more about his captors, Durose still cringed when he thought back to those final moments on Coruscant. He had failed his oath. He had not defended the Link with his life. Instead, he had survived and given Victoria's gift away to a stranger. He felt almost as if he had cheated on Victoria even though they were never a thing.

And who was this blue-haired, blue-eyed Mandalorian anyways? She reminded him more of a mischievous little Ubese running around in shiny armor than the grizzled Mandalorian warriors of legend. Of course, her skills told another story. He had made the mistake of underestimating her once. He knew better than to repeat past mistakes so soon after having just made them. 


So for the time being he had ultimately decided to placate this small, blood-thirsty humanoid.  At least long enough to recover the necklace. Of course, the "how" of that scenario proved to be more complicated than he had anticipated. How does one say, "I was delirious, you reminded me of a past love in my hallucinatory state. And you two don't even really look alike! Not to say that you aren't a well-formed human female, albeit a little miniature. No offense, of course. You have real talent. It's just well... the necklace... that's kind of mine. And I want it back. And I'm not going down this path to crazy town with you."

Human women were complicated enough. They were nothing like Cathar females. Saying the wrong thing could end in disaster even when dealing with the most rational of humans. But these Mandalorian women? They seemed even that much more unstable, if that was even possible. He could consider himself lucky to have been spared and only receive a "cute" but somewhat annoying "pet name."

Roar Roar. Is she secretly mocking my warrior growls with every parting of her lips? Is she playfully attempting to remind me of the completeness of my failure of honor and duty and combat prowess? Is the name to remind me of my inferiority to her after being bested by a humanoid female near half my size?

And yet it could have been worse. The way his new "nickname" rolled off her tongue seemed to lack the malicious intent Ro almost secretly hoped she harbored. Whether she looked at him as a potential lover, big brother, hulking bodyguard, furry friend, trophy slave, fuzzy teddy bear, loyal pet, or enemy to torture, it seemed that whatever he had done in his final moments of consciousness had bought him enough time to heal, recover, and reevaluate his situation.

Unsure of how to proceed and without purpose (having already failed his assigned purpose so thoroughly), the defeated Cathar slowly came to the realization that the words on that necklace were more of a curse than terms of endearment. Perhaps it is fitting that this little one carry my necklace. At least it will remain in the hands of someone who is actually a victor and not a failure like I. Or so he had thought at the time.

It was that thought that had ultimately haunted the sentient-turned-patient as he recovered from his injuries. All the while, the weight of his failure --one that not even he believed he deserved to carry-- continued to crush his soul like a heavy anchor. It wasn't long before his burnt fur had regrown and his broken bones had refused and his scars had faded. But the hole in his soul remained.

The captive beast agreed to observe and learn his captor's ways. He knew Rose believed in the destiny and dogma that her Mandalore spewed. But He knew that such teachings would lead her down a path of disappointment. They were the words of a tyrant looking for an excuse to justify her blood-lust for death and carnage. He found their manner and methods crude. Their guise of reverence false. They had turned the Mandalorians back into the wild savages that Cathar children read about in their holonovels. The same crude monsters that even many modern Mandalorians had since admitted to being ashamed of. Or so Dhonarr's father had always taught him.

In truth, the Mandalorians had long been a passing fascination of his. After all, they are an indelibly part of Cathar legend and lore. His entire species had nearly been wiped out in the Massacre of Cathar and even after the several millenniums since their rebuilding and repopulation of Cathar, all Cathar knew the name of Mandalore the Ultimate and Cassus Fett. So when rumors of their return to the galactic scene began to circulate in the bars and back alleys of lower Coruscant, Ro didn't hesitate to use the resources at his disposal to investigate. Sadly, it would turn out that the crazies that lead by fear and blood-lust ultimately won sway over the Mandalorians who lead by honor and example.

 

And all that ultimately led him here. Another glassed graveyard.

 

He had joined her "for the hunt." But he stayed in hopes that he could somehow redeem both of their souls. 

But in the midst of all the fighting and explosions and chaos, the two of them got separated. In fact, for some time he honestly thought he had lost her. But now as he waded his way through the glassed remains of a once civilized world of wealth and glamour, there she was. Rose. Her fragile 5'2 frame somehow still managing to hold itself up under the weight of her imitation Beskar armor.

Ro looked upward as he approached, trying to figure out what had caught her eyes. Of course, it wasn't hard to see what it was. If it wasn't so tragic, the explosive balls of flames and streaking debris actually would have looked a bit pretty in a morbid but vibrant sort of way. 

 

Shaking his head, he refocused his eyes on the warrior in front of him. She did not gloat on her day of victory and he would not gloat in her day of defeat. Almost slipping but managing to steady himself, the former Watcher of the Link continued his approach as he spoke.

"So then Warrior Priestess of Blue..." Durose began but quickly found himself at a loss for words.

 

Instead of saying another word, he just stood there waiting for her response. What does one do in such a situation? Am I destine to receive a hug, a punch, a rematch? Is she in morning, panic, numb all over? Will she run, surrender, pursue the attackers?

Or perhaps the two of them would just stand there in silence for a few moments more, staring at the balls of flaming ship components as they danced across the sky like an amateur fireworks extravaganza. Maybe in this moment in time that was the only right thing to do... at least for just a few seconds more...

___
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Edited by Durose Roshan
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The shale gave way fully beneath her slight weight, and Rose came down hard on her backside. She cursed widely but did not attempt to rise. In frustration, she pulled the dark helmet off her head and shook out the shoulder length locks of blue hair that were damp with sweat. SHe balanced the helmet between her knees and gestured for Durose to join her, or at least stand there looming like her usually did. She pointed to the distant city that was still burning from whatever airstrike had shattered its skyscrapers like ice sculptures. 

 

“Look, when we get to Kyr-Allei, you can be finally rid of this stupid endenturement. I should never have brought you with me on this crusade of misery. We only have a little ways to go, then you can leave this behind.” 

 

“They always go.” She muttered as she ran her dusty gloved fingers over her face to wipe away the tear streaks, but which left her face looking mottles and patchy with dust. She looked up again at the falling stars and sighed. Why had it gone so wrong? Why did it always go so wrong for her? The three hyposprays in her belt pouch of gylocal were so tempting, just a press then she could float away for a while. But she couldn’t do it here, not now. Not with the morose Cathar beside her. 

 

She was glad for the company, however temporary. She gestured widely, her arm encompassing the whole of the dark sky. "Where do you want to go Durose?" 

 

  

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Ro watched Rose with amusement as the weight of her armor sent her falling to the ground. The ground was now as much of an adversary as anything else in this uneven wasteland. Durose wasn't keen on joining her as the ground was unsteady and he was arguably heavier, even without the added armor she had.

 

“Look, when we get to Kyr-Allei, you can be finally rid of this stupid indenturement. I should never have brought you with me on this crusade of misery. We only have a little ways to go, then you can leave this behind.” 

 

Ro looked towards the city uncertain of what she meant. Was that the city name? Was that the name of her metal dragon beast? Was that the name of her ship? He had never had the need to visit Chandrila and he was probably more of a fish out of water here than most. Her words had hints of bitterness to them. Of course, maybe he simply perceived bitterness. Reading humans wasn't a science he had perfected. But he had learned the importance of reading between the lines.

 

Truth be told, she mumbled something but he missed it between the noise of explosions and the sounds of crashing rubble and streaking debris. It almost looked to him as if she was crying but it was hard to tell if it was tears or sweat or dust in her eyes that lead to her dirty face.

Granted, he couldn't help but quietly wonder what the point of wearing a helmet was if she was just going to take it off in the midst of every hazardous location. Especially if it was going to make her all sweaty and then she was going to take it off in the middle of so much smoke and falling ash. She might as well have made her head a sponge for soaking up all this planet's misery.

"Where do you want to go Durose?"

 

"What? No more, Roar Roar?" Durose replied attempting to lighten the mood before sighing to think.

The thought of where to go next was not something he had even remotely processed. In fact, this entire situation was something he hadn't really begun to fully processed. Coruscant was the real answer to her question. But the last he overheard, it was or would be soon teaming with Sith. And if not Sith, then surely whatever was still left of these Mandalorians. And if neither, it still wouldn't be any more habitable than when he left. That option had been removed from the table, at least for the time being.

So where?

 

Ro paused for a few more seconds as he tried to looked in the direction of Kyr-Allei -- whatever that was -- and seem stoic. The Mandalorian homeworld was something of interest to him now. After his short stay with their people, Ro felt like there was a lot more layers to their culture than this bastardized version of glory and honor that this failed faction presented. Perhaps there was something of value to their organization in general. Perhaps they could be used as a blunt tool to liberate and rebuilt Coruscant if given the right direction and guidance. 

 

But who?

 

The Former Watcher of the Link was a manager at best. He was no leader. In his mind, his version of "leading" was when he personally took action and pursued his own form of justice, regardless of the costs. That was not the same thing as convincing others to join his cause and follow his orders. At least... not as far as he was concerned. He was no Mandalore.

 

But what of the Jedi?

 

When he watched that Jedi fight he felt a calling. It was almost as if he was compelled to reach out and chase after them. It was ever so faint and he had maintained his distance instead. It wasn't the first time that he had felt something like that. But it was perhaps the first time that he had ever truly entertained the thought.

 

Durose glanced at the woman beside him. She was a war criminal. Surely the Jedi would reward him handsomely if he apprehended her and turned her over to them. Perhaps they would even allow him to join their ranks. It wasn't all that unusual for Cathar to be force-sensitive --maybe they had the ancient Mandalorians' near genocide of their race to thank for that narrowing of the gene pool-- or unusual for them to become power Force Users. But even if it turned out that he wasn't force-sensitive or "worthy" of joining their order, perhaps if he got in at the foot soldier level -- did they have those? -- he might be able to eventually encourage the brass to liberate Coruscant.

 

He looked back towards Kyr-Allei. Then back at the Mandalorian. She was just a child. Perhaps not literally -- and who was he to speak -- but her story was not written. Dhonarr had seen plenty of evil people in his life. The Watcher of the Link had also dealt with his fair share. Perhaps his bias was blinding him, but he refused to discount her so easily. She seemed lost. Not irredeemable. 

 

Durose twitched rapidly, shaking the bothersome ash from his mane. His 6'11 frame then slopped downward, the Cathar offering Rose his hand. 

"Well... if I've taught you one thing, mighty little one, it's that you can't win them all, no matter your size or conviction," Durose began with a smile.

 

He paused to see if she would allow him to help her up before continuing.

"But what if we did something crazy? What if we sought out the Jedi? You could lay low as my attaché. I have strong reason to believe that I may be force sensitive. And if they accept me for training and allow you to stay, you'd have a home for the time being. You could teach me what it means to be a Mandalorian while I attempt to learn what it means to wield a lightsaber and use their fancy space magic. And if it gets too much for you, we position ourselves just right, you kill that Jedi that took your Mandalore's life and we make a break for it."

Durose let out a sigh and a shrug before turning back to the burning cities. There was a solemn expression on his face but his eyes were almost entranced by the flickers of fire.

 

"After all... what do we have to lose at this point..."

___

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Edited by Durose Roshan
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“No, no more Roar Roar. I’m just tired and I don’t want to keep you in a place of dishonour. You fought well. And that is enough.”

 

They were all servants of Arasuum now. There had been a fire of cleansing. There had been honour, there had been service. But it had all ended in sloth and disgust. She considered what Durose had said as she took his hand and  hauled herself to her feet, sliding another meter down the shale hill in the process. Dragging the poor cathar with her. She leaned on him for a moment before she regained her footing, and making sure her helmet was slung on her belt she started to walk again. It was a long time before she spoke. 

 

“No.” 

 

She brushed the dusty blue hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. 

 

“Revenge is dishonourable. If anything, we should seek the Jedi out to serve them.” She looked back to the firey sky. “The signs point that there is a greater enemy to fight. Would you oppose such a direction?” 

 

Perhaps there was redemption to find in this new rebellion.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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"GGrrraahhh..." Ro blurted out in surprise as they slide and he tried to maintain his balance. "Cat-like reflexes" or not, this terrain had him feeling completely out of his element and made him very uneasy to say the least. He watched her in amusement as she tried to stay upright. For some reason, the image of a fledgling fawn first learning to walk played in his head as the little woman wobbled.

 

Then came the silence. It made him nervous. Truth be told, he was already expecting the worse. This whole idea was little more than a shot in the dark. Maybe it was simply born out of desperation. But perhaps he was hoping to drag things out just a little bit longer. Perhaps he wasn't ready to part with this Warrior Priestess of Blue quite yet.

 

“No.” 

 

And there it is. The rejection. "I would never join the--"

 

“Revenge is dishonourable. If anything, we should seek the Jedi out to serve them.”

 

Durose was taken aback by her words and visibly stunned as he bobbed his head backwards reflexively. Almost immediately recovering his senses, the Cathar coughed a little, trying to play off  this initial reaction while she glared up at the sky.

 

“The signs point that there is a greater enemy to fight. Would you oppose such a direction?” 

 

He was at a loss for words. Gathering himself, he cleared his throat. Then there was a pause. It was clear from his face that he was processing things. And then it was like a light went off in his head and a smile suddenly followed.

 

"My people. The... I guess you would call it the clan or tribe... They... well, we have a saying. Or I guess you could call it a belief. It is thought that when two warriors face one another honorably in combat and they both draw blood they are said to be forever bound together in the universe's life force like two links in a circular chain... if that makes any sense..."

 

Ro shakes his head a little bit, totally feeling foolish.

 

"Forgive me. I'm probably explaining it terribly. But the point is... we call those people 'Soo'Gah'Wae', which doesn't quite have an exact translation into Basic that I know of. If I was to attempt to roughly translate it, I'd say it means something like 'brother of blood' or 'blood brothers' in your human terms."

 

Durose momentarily shrugs.

 

"Regardless, it pleases me that you are agreeable to the idea. The life force that binds all things has seen fit to preserve us both yet again, Soo'Gah'Wae," Ro replies as his eyes meet hers and a warm grin rolls across his face. "We should not let this opportunity go to waste. Where you go, I will follow... for now, at least. Lead the way, mighty little one. It sounds like we are off to meet our destiny."

 

___

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Edited by Durose Roshan
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  • 2 weeks later...

Rose let a smile flicker across her face for a moment in response to his reply and she continued her slide down the shale embankment, falling to her side every ten or so meters to contain her speed and the possibility of avalanche. It was ungraceful as hell, if a little fun. A decade before and she would have been trying to race Durose to the bottom of the long hill, but now they trudged in almost dismal silence. The only thing to punctuate their intermittent conversation was the sound of falling shale. 

 

“Ill be your Soo Gah Wae, if you will have me…” Her voice was quiet against the sound of the shale. “I don’t have a family anymore afterall, and you fought with honour, so why not?” 

 

She turned, almost pitching over before catching herself and slowing her slide. She extended her gloved hand. There was an opportunity here that she couldn't resist. The chance to have something again.

 

“I would be honoured Durose.” The sound of jet engines in the distance, presaged their near arrival at the starport. Only a few more hours of hiking. She looked as a transport disappeared into the distance. And she felt the need to strike up another conversation as she stumbled down the mountainside. 

 

“So tell me of your people Durose. What made you the way you are?”

 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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The large alien creature took a hold of her gloved hand for only a moment. There was an unusual wave of familiarity that washed over him. She had been there by his side as his whole world came crashing down. Now he found himself at her side while her world began falling apart. Granted, the situations were quite different. But there was a sort of tragic symmetry to it all.

 

Shared tragedies. Perhaps that's how the strongest of bounds are formed.

 

Now everything was about to change yet again. It very much looked like Rose was going to become his ward. He had no idea how the Jedi might react to their arrival, but he could only hope that they would accept him and, in turn, allow her to stay as well. Deep down, Durose had feared that it would be nothing more than a commensal arrangement. But now that she had agreed to be his Soo'Gah'Wae, there was a newfound sense of optimism.

 

The walk wasn't so bad after their exchange. Ro's gruff exterior did well to hide it but he was, in fact, delighted. It had been so long since he had connected with someone in any meaningful way. So long since he had unburied his head from the sand that was his work at the Link. It had been his hiding place since Victoria left. And his excuse. His cross to die on. He had forgotten what the world looked like outside of those shiny metal walls and its white sterile corridors.

 

Yet the longer the silence lingered between them, the more his excitement turned to melancholy. As his thoughts were allowed to wander, the more he was reminded of the past he had left behind. With each step he took, the more his heart steadily filled with hiraeth. There was no better word to describe it. It felt like he was drowning in a dark, deep pool of hiraeth, trapped by the weight of his memories of a home he could never return to or have back. 

 

Coruscant.

Suddenly, the sounds of jet engines shook him from his disquieting thoughts. They were surely close to their destination now.

 

“So tell me of your people Durose. What made you the way you are?”

 

Looking over at the woman, Durose raised an eyebrow.

"The way I am?" He chuckled a little before responding to her in a very matter of fact way, "I didn't realize I was a certain 'way.' You'll have to elaborate more, Priestess. As for my people, my people... what would you like to know? We have retractable claws. We are obviously covered in fur. I'm taller than the average Cathar male. Your 'ancestors', the Mandalorians of old, attempted to commit genocide against my people and almost succeeded. But we survived. And our traditions of honor, loyalty, and combat have continued to this day. On Cathar, we live in trees and our cities are governed by Elders. And once we mate, we mate for life. Oh. And as I'm sure you've already realized, we can heal at a rapid rate compared to most species in the universe."

 

____

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The mandalorian crusaders of old, some five thousand years before, had nearly destroyed the Cathar people. They had called them Arasuum. But look who it had been who had survived the long run of evolution and galaxy building. The Cathar survived. The original mandalorian species had not. They had been wiped out at Malachor. Their beliefs, their codes, their Gods. All had outlived them. And what a shabby existence it had made. What had it been worth? 

 

“If I could apologize for those Neo-crusaders I would Durose.”

 

She looked at the edges of the starport as they finally ended their downhill climb through shale. She paused to catch her breath. 

 

“Did you have a life mate on Coruscant Durose?”

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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“If I could apologize for those Neo-crusaders I would Durose.”

 

"Which ones? The ones that nearly massacred my people into extinction and destroyed our home... or the ones that nearly massacred my planet into extinction and destroyed my home."

The phrase itself should have been a question but the way he spoke it sounded more like a general statement. There was bitterness surrounding the whole subject.

But can I really hold a grudge against an entire people? That hardly seems right.

"The truth is, Rose, if I hold a grudge against an entire people for the action of some of their leaders and some of their soldiers then I am no less bigoted than they are. I believe people can become more than what they are... more than what they were born to be or told they must become. I don't believe it is easy. But I believe it is possible. You, too, can become more than the mindless minion your masters wished to mold you into. I can see that potential in you as clear as day. And what greatness it is! But it's also a choice."

Durose let silence fall between them after he finished. They had ran into a rather treacherous stretch of shale and debris and he didn't want to lose his footing and take a tumble. But more than that, he felt like he had said all that needed to be said about the subject. It isn't for this little one to apologize or feel sorry for him or his people. He needed no one's pity. Remorse was only as good as the change it affected. She was still young and impressionable. She wasn't the first or the last that would be strung along by the whims of the powerful, charismatic, and megalomaniacal. In Ro's opinion, this group of Mandalorians had failed due to the profligacy and destructive arrogance of their leadership and agendas. But that was more of a fortuitous misstep on their part. Their fanatical religious devotion blinded their members in so many dangerous ways that they could have become a true scourge, reminiscent of the monsters who sought to wipe out his race for the sake of their own moral depravity. 

“Did you have a life mate on Coruscant, Durose?”

 

The former "Watcher of the Link" suddenly had his train of thought derailed by her comment. The Cathar don't really blush in any visibly notable way with so much fur covering his body, but the comment did make him squirm just a little. It was a rather personal question. It wasn't fair to say that it was off-limits, but at the same time, it was very complicated. (Truthfully, the answer wasn't actually that complicated. It was a simple "yes" or "no" question. But in true Roshan fashion, such one word answers would not do the answer proper justice.)

"I..." Durose chuckles a little nervously to cut the tension. "Well..."

He pauses. It wasn't like him to feel this nervous. But it also wasn't like him to discuss his feelings or his love life. These were not things he did. They were not part of his job description. They...

Taking a deep breath, Durose let it out slowly as he began, "I have to be honest with you, 'Soo'Gah'Wae'. You deserve that much."

There was another pause. This was more difficult than he thought it would be. He realized that in the oddity of this moment, what he was about to say was something he had never told anyone. After all, the real Durose and Victoria already knew.

"What I mean to say is," he swallowed hard before continuing. "Me... I'm... I mean..."

Just get it over with RO!!!

 

"I'm a clone!" he finally blurted out. "There. You have it. My master was an ambitious Cathar. He schemed and sought to manipulate the galaxy and leave his own footprint. He was adventurous as well. But he trusted few more than himself. And thanks to such paranoia, he commissioned the creation of clones in his likeness that were trained to mimic and embody him and allow him to be at all sorts of places at once. For the most part it worked for many a scheme. And I was the result of one of his many attempts."

Ro's eye dropped to the small pile of burned metal at his feet.

"So yes. I am a monster. A beast. An abomination. I was created for the purpose of watching over the going-ons of the Link on Coruscant. I was never supposed to leave there. There was once a woman that I loved or at least was in love with. But she was never mine. And though I think we shared a brief connection, I would have never been worthy of her. She was real. My DNA may say that I'm a Cathar and I may be proud of the Cathar people. But they are Dhonarr's people. Just as she was Dhonarr's. And the Link was Dhonarr's. And this life is Dhonarr's. I am nothing more than an imposter. A test tube creation fashioned in the shape and likeness of something great, but lacking the full depth and breath of that greatness..."

In those moments, it felt as if all the emotion that Durose had been holding back for the past several years had all came flooding into his chest and head like a rush of pain and emotion. It was choking him up. But he would not embarrass himself in front of his little woman. He refused to show more than the smallest hint of this laughable self-anguish.

"So no. I have no life mate, nor am I worthy of one. I wasn't even worthy of the duty I was entrusted with," he frowns as he glares downward and shakes his head. "I did not evacuate the Link in time. I did not protect it. I did not stop their Mandalore as that Jedi did. And because of me, the headquarters I was commissioned to watch... my one job... because of my failure it now burns. My home and all there have been lost."

Durose takes in a deep breath before letting it out at a slow and metered pace. 

"Worthless..." he grumbles before trailing off.

___

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Rose stopped in the sparse grass as she heard the emotion crack in his normally gruff tone. She spun about and looked at him as he spoke, her face contorted into a thoughtful expression. This was an odd burst of emotion from him in her opinion, and as another freighter blasted off into the sky in front of him she heard why. She stayed silent for a moment as he started walking again, then she swiftly closed the distance between them and gave him a bit of mandalorian affection. 

 

She punched him with all of her might in the stomach. Then when he was recovering she winked.

 

“Di'kut!” (Dummy in mando'a)

 

Her hands talked as fast as she did, in the kinetic language of her own distant past. 

 

“Di'kut, di'kut, di'kut! You aren't worthless and undeserving.” 

 

She let her voice growl in her throat. 

 

“You are strong, and should bow to no one. Take no shame for your past. It has made you strong. It has purged the weakness from you, you are worthy of a whole clan of Cathars. Don’t look at yourself with shame!” 

 

She resisted the urge to strike him again. She was doubtful that mandalorian affection would really help. She spat on the ground as her hands danced in the intricate signs of the Lorrdians of whome she had been born.
 

“Walk with me, or fight me to prove yourself if you must. Your shame has no place here. If it means anything, I release you of it and name you strong and worthy.” 

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Durose reflexively curled as he dropped to one knee. It definitely wasn't the hardest punch he had ever taken. But perhaps it was the startling nature of her attack that had truly thrown him off guard. Raising his head with a low rolling growl, he was met with a wink.

 

What an odd species they are, these humans. Very odd indeed. Of course, that punch does probably serve me right for sharing my feelings with anyone, much less someone so capricious and volatile as this little lady of blue.

 

Ro made no immediate attempt to rise back to his feet as the woman began babbling in something clearly not Basic. Only half paying attention, Roshan found himself unexpectedly amused by the fact that with their height difference, even when kneeling before her, it still did not change the fact that he had the height advantage over her. Granted, they were almost positioned eye to eye now.

He sighed as she continued to speak. He found it ironic that she had "bowed" him with her blow in order to tell him to bow to no one. It wasn't something he was going to complain about out loud. But perhaps he was still a little hung up on the fact that she had just punched him.

Maybe it is some sort of weird, playful Mandalorian thing. Her wink suggests as much, right? Or maybe she was hitting on me... literally? Or maybe it's a test to see my character?

But it was a cheap shot. If he had been on guard or looking up even, it is doubtful that she would have been able to fit in that punch so easily. Not against a clone such as himself that had been trained in the fighting arts of the Echani. Yet she had somehow managed to find a chink in his armor yet again.

 

As she spat on the ground and her hands started "spasming" in a likely intentional manner, the oddity of this whole situation focused him back on the content of her vitriol. At least she had a cuteness to her when she got passionate about something. It was fair to say that her levity and exuberance wasn't completely lost on him, especially in this tense moment. 

“Walk with me, or fight me to prove yourself if you must. Your shame has no place here. If it means anything, I release you of it and name you strong and worthy.” 

 

If he was being honest, there was a part of him that wanted to take her up on that offer. He had half a mind to pounce on her right then and there and pin her hard to the ground and do who knows what to her. There were so many emotions pent up in his soul that he was just now addressing. Pent up rage and frustration and a general sense of anguish were top among them. 

As hard as it may have been to believe, Roshan's entire emotionally inner-makeup had been dimmed since the events of Coruscant. He had been consumed by an intense and uncharacteristic apathy and indifference that was out of place, even for him. In fact, it was this numbness that had made him feel even worse about everything. Ever since Coruscant, he couldn't seem to feel the emotions he knew he was supposed to feel. And it made him feel that much more like a monster. Psychologically barred from grieving but mocked by a knowing sense of impending emotional turmoil, it wasn't until he watched Mandalore die that something switched back on inside him. At first it was a just flicker. But it seemed like the closer and closer they got to their exit point, the more intense the emotions began to resurface.

And now he was drowning in them as if he had been pushed off a high-dive board without any flotation devices. It wasn't just his feelings about Coruscant or the Link. It was as if he had become a beacon for a lifetime of grief. It was like the sensation of falling asleep in a bad position and having your arm go numb only to suddenly shift and have the stabbing sensation of thousands of little needles hold your arm and your pain receptors hostage. Like fresh, new blood reviving starved tissues, everything came rushing in at Durose all at once. And it hurt. It hurt really bad.

I find myself kneeling here. Helpless. Doing everything just not to break. Just not to embarrass myself any further. What is wrong with me! What is this!!!

As he leaned against his knee for support, he found himself overwhelmed. His emotions felt raw but now his body felt numb. He attempted to process her words and form a sentence. Closing his eyes, Ro tried to let his breaths flow slowly in and out. After a few more moments, he opened this eyes again, his eyes now resting at Rose's eye level.

"I wish I could explain. It's not shame. It's much more complicated. And if I could prove myself in a fight against you then I wouldn't be the one on a knee right now. You win yet again, Warrior Priestess of Blue. I shall walk with you. Only tell me where we are headed next and I will catch up with you in a few short minutes. I think the smell of all this dead flesh and burnt metal is going to my head. I need a second or two to recenter myself. I will catch up. I promise."

Durose was doing everything he could to hold himself together and look properly strong in front of the little lady. Inside, he felt like he was suddenly losing his mind.

You can do this. Hold it together. You are the imprint of a warrior! Dhonarr would not carry himself so pathetically if he were here! You are the Watcher of the Link! ...

 

___

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Edited by Durose Roshan
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Her face twisted again into a look of concern. With nimble fingers she opened one of the compartments at her belt and rustled through the ration packet slivers she kept until she found the right one. Keeping her bright eyes locked with his, she tore an edge from the packet and fished around for her mess kit with the other hand. She smiled sadly and walked the few strides so that she was beside him and with very little grace, flopped down beside him. The armour on her rear end absorbing the shock of the fall well enough that she didn't break her tailbone. 

 

She snapped out the folding plate and dumped the contents of the packet onto it, liberally sprinkling it with water from her nearly dry canteen, before stirring it with a finger to activate the crystals within. Over the course of thirty seconds a flat low chocolate flavored bread appeared. It was a dessert portion of a ration, but it was still delicious enough. 

 

She took a small corner of it before extending the plate to Durose. 

 

“Eat something. It will make you feel better.” 

 

She glanced down at the dirt at her boots, hoping it was a kind enough gesture to help.

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Ro felt like he was going crazy. Literally like he was losing his mind. He had gone from unusually apathetic only a few hours ago to melodramatically emotional to suddenly going insane. He could feel his hands and legs trembling, his stomach lurching as he tried to catch his breath. It felt like he was buried underneath the rubble on Coruscant again; as if some crumbling building component had made a nest on his chest. Only they were in a clearing. and it was just the two of them and the burnt Chandrila air.

Durose careened forward, catching himself with both hands. The woman had refused to leave him in peace but embarrassing himself in front of her was the least of his worries now. He couldn't breath. It felt like he was suffocating. Lost in a daze, Durose was still present but more of a helpless spectator than an actual participant. Reaching for the brownie she had offered, he snatch it off the plate and stuffed it down his throat. He gobbled it down so fast he almost choked.

 

Anything to escape this moment. This feeling. Help...

 

He had hoped eating something would somehow make him feel better but it had the opposite effect. The dizziness he initially felt was replaced by a violently disconcerting nausea. It was coming back up. He was panting with each short breath, trying to hold the food down. But it was. There was no stopping it.

Help. Help. Help, help, help.

He wrenched viciously. The uneasy terror he was experiencing from suddenly going absolutely insane was almost as unnerving as the sight and smell of the chunks of mucus-y poop-colored vomit that now decorated the ground in front of him. 

Help, help, help, help, HELP!
 

The shaking had only gotten worse. Was he dying? Had he come in contact with some sort of poisonous object without him knowing it? Was there some sort of biological contaminant lingering in the air? He wouldn't put it past these barbarians crusaders and their lust of murder and death.

Breath, breath, breath, breath!

 

His heart was racing. He was going to die. He was sure of it now. He was going to die and Rose was going to watch. 

Rose.

 

He closed his eyes and reached out his hand in the direction where she last was, waving it out hoping to grab hold on someone familiar. He didn't know what else to do. He felt faint and the trembling just wouldn't stop. Tears started to trickle down his face, mixing with the fur of his mane. A proud warrior reduced to a powerless child by some illogical and irrational sudden bout of fear! And yet, in these moments that fear was just as real as anything he had ever experienced in his short life, the massacre of Coruscant notwithstanding.

Come on. Come on, Ro. Please. Please!

But that was the real gist of it all. This was just one more piece of proof that he was a fraud. He was molded after a proud warrior but he was little more than a weak and frightened child in an overgrown Cathar's body. Those experiences and memories were not his. They were not earned and did not belong to him. 

Maybe this was where he would and should unceremoniously die. And maybe he deserved it.

I surrender. Take me then!

He had completely lost track of everything else around him. He had no idea if his hand had found Rose or if there was a comet of debris headed straight for him or if someone had even lit him on fire. His senses had betrayed him. He could only hear the ringing of his ears. His hands and body felt physically numb, almost as if someone had suddenly pressed a button and switched his exteroception off.


I can't stop you. Do it. I can't...

Unfortunately, it would seem that his olfactory senses were the one thing grounding him to this moral plane, the one sense that had chosen not to abandon him in his time of need. Of course, it was also the one sense he wish that had. Regurgitated food particles. Burning metal and electrical wiring. Chemical fumes. And then...

Something familiar. Focus on the familiar.

Durose squinted harder, while his eyes remained firmly shut. In what seemed like endless moments, he centered his mind on the one thing that still instilled a sense of pride, safety, and comfort.

Soo'Gah'Wae.

He could smell her, his Cathar senses allowing him to rather efficiently pick out different smells. Whether the wind had also decided to take time out of its busy schedule to prove useful, for once, in this endeavor was beyond him. All Ro knew was that he could pick out her scent and it helped him feel centered. It was the smell of battle. The one that held him as he faded. The one that saw to him being nursed back to health. The one who sought to teach him her ways. The one that had ultimately brought him here. And the one he had hiked this treacherous terrain with. Some might have called this response little more than a side effect of capture-bonding, but that didn't seem fair. She had earned her place of respect as far as Ro was concerned. He had nothing else left anyway. Just the blue haired little human and what little that was left of his self-dignity.
 

“Thank you Roar Roar. Sleep.”

The words began to played in his head on a loop as he relived those final moments and the sudden sense of relief he felt before losing consciousness. 

The relief. You are safe. She is here. Focus...

And then, all of the sudden, it was all over. The entire traumatic experience abruptly passed and the most terrifying few minutes of his life ended almost as quickly as they had overtaken him. Maybe focusing on Rose had helped or perhaps the feeling had simply run its course naturally. Regardless, the former Watcher of the Link now found himself able to finally breath normally again as his visual, tactile, and auditory sense all came flooding back to him.

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 Rose fumbled the plate of dessert and almost dumped it into the dirt as the Cathar gobbled it down then became affected by what could only appear to be a full blown panic attack. She shouted a curse, caught the plate, and setting it beside her, jumped forward to put her hands on his back. 

 

“There. Calm. Breathe.” 

 

She scooted forward so that she could hold up his massive frame while he shuddered like a leaf in a stiff wind. It had to be PTSD of sorts, and so she held him, as she kicked dust over his vomit to cover his shame. She held him until he recovered and helped him into a sitting position. This wasn't the first strong soldier she had seen effected like this. Was he truely that bothered about being a clone? She couldn't figure it out for the life of her. But she would wait, perhaps he would tell her. 

 

“Now my cooking can’t be that bad could it?” She let the joke slide off her lips to hide her concern. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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WHAT... THE...

 

As Ro slowly came out of his panicked daze, he found Rose at his side. Although he may not have openly admitted it, there was a definite sense of relief having her there. Helping him into a sitting position, Rose tried to lighten the mood while Durose took a few deep breaths.

 

“Now my cooking can’t be that bad could it?” 

 

“No,” Ro replied bluntly with a straight face. 

 

He was already on his way to his feet, in fact. In that moment he had decided to deal with this situation the only way that made sense: pretend like it never happened.

 

“Come, Rose. We have a transport to catch.”

 

Stepping around the ash covered vomit, Durose silently shuddered a little bit. Then he resumed walking in their original direction, not waiting to see whether Rose decided to follow or not.

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Oop! She snapped the plate back into its container and hauled herself to her feet. She nearly had to sprint to catch up with his long legged strides, but when she did she kept silent. She tapped her fingers on her blue helmet that was slung from her belt in a discordant rythm, he obviously was hiding something. But perhaps she could get him to talk too if she revealed more about herself. Her voice was hesitant as she spoke,

 

“I am a clone too. It was a contract, the Black Sun forcibly cloned me. I assume my old body and self died at some point. But I only have flash memories for what my old self knew at imprint point. I don’t know what happened to her, or what she was like.” 

 

She looked up at the sky again as they neared the starport. 

 

“You aren’t alone you know. Errr, you don't have to be alone.”

 

Her fingers translated her sentence, as she looked nervously at the lines of ships preparing for evacuation. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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