Jump to content

Chandrila


Tarrian Skywalker

Recommended Posts

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. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 6 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. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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?" 

 

  

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“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.

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 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?”

 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...


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?”

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites


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.” 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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.

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

 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 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

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 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose scrunched up her face as they reached the tailings of the starport. Her blue eyes glanced up at the Cathar and she let out a heavy breath. The cathar was decidedly right, she couldn’t just waltz into the starport dressed like one of the invaders that had so violently ravaged the world. She ducked slightly into the alley, set down her helmet then began the arduous process of stripping off her armour and flight suit. First came the chest peice, it its long lamellar plates, then the shoulder pauldrons, arm pieces. Then came the armour that covered her torso, her gunbelt, legs armour and boots. She tossed each piece beside the helmet then unzipped the mandalorian flightsuit, stepped out of it then tossed it beside the discarded armour. She shivered a bit at the touch of air against her mostly bare flesh then grimaced at the feel of the duracrete under her bare feet. She adjusted the tight shorts and close fitting shirt that showed her midriff clearly. 

 

She reached down and pulled out the credit chit from her gunbelt, along with her vibroknife. She perched herself ontop of her helmet and examined her shoulder, which carried the mandalorian tattoo of the deathwatch. Her finger clicked the button on the hilts of the knife and the blade seemed to nearly go transparent with the vibrations. She bit her lip and with a deft cut, peeled the dyed skin away from her arm. She tossed it haphazardly into the back of the alley, and let the blood run down her arm as she stared at the buzzing knife. 

 

She sighed, letting the pain tinge at her so pleasantly, it would be so tempting to…

 

She shook herself out of her revery and tossed the knife into the duracrete wall where is buzzed to a halt, buried to its hilts in the man made stone. 

 

“We are all human or other species, the mandalorians were wiped out eons ago.” 

 

She smeared the blood a bit more convincingly on the side of her face, then bandaged herself up. She spoke some soft words in mando’a as she picked back up her helmet and pressed its forehead against hers. She flipped the discarded blaster around and placed the helmet upon its barrel, then took her datapad/comm unit from its pouch, checked it, grimaced, then stood. She shivered again against the wind as it whipped her short hair against the back of her neck as she stood straight and looked back at Durose.

 

“Well, there you have me. Not very impressive is it? Lets go eh?” 

 

And she walked towards the starport on her bare feet.

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose let a sly smile creep over her thin lips as she ran her fingers through her sweat filled hair. She looked him over from foot to head and then watched him take off his shirt. She accepted it and finding it fit more like a tent, tied it around herself like a cloak. 

 

“Which way would you have imagined me stripping down?” She waggled her blue eyebrows up and down, then made sure his shirt was fully engulfing her which cut out the majority of the wind. She smiled at him and nodded, then grabbed his stooped shoulder and pulled herself up so that she was perched on his shoulder like a parrot in one of the old pirate holofilms. She leaned against his giant head and adjusted herself so that she didn’t weigh him down too much. His fur was soft to the touch, and carried with it a distinct smell that made her smile. “You are right Durose, this is much better as long as I am not too heavy. Take anything you want from my equipment. It is dead to me.” 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose could tell by the twitching of the muscles buried by the light fur of his shoulders that the position she was taking was certainly not ‘alright.’ After entertaining the notion of allowing him to carry her in such an uncomfortable manner for the rest of the walk, she shifted so that her weight was squarely behind him, her legs straddling his neck. She rested her arms on his giant head and let the blissfulness of being carried like a child overcome her weariness. She avoided eye contact with most of the locals until they found a freighter captain who was overcharging for a ride out of the burning planet. 

 

She waved him down and when he acknowledged her gesture, she sprang off of Durose’s back and landed like a well trained gymnast, though dressed less...professionally. She decided to have fun with the role.

 

“How much is it for me and my…” She looked back and cocked a smile at the Cathar. “Master to come aboard off this rock?”

 

He leered down at the petite girl and looked up at Durose. 

 

“Forty thousand.” 

 

The number was absurd. Even as a bargaining position, he was a scammer, and a scammer of the destitute and refugees. Rose could feel a peaque of anger boil up inside her small frame. 

 

“And how much if you know…” 

 

She ran her hand down the large man’s chest armour and bit her lip. 

 

“A lot less.” 

 

She took his hand and gestured to the waiting boarding ramp. She winked back at Durose. 

 

“Then let’s get to it.” 

 

As soon as they had walked the two meters up the ramp, her grip tightened severely on his hand causing him to shout out in surprise. Then she twisted and tossed her hip against the side of his leg, throwing the man off balance, then she shoved again with one leg between his, causing him to fall in a heap and the ground. 

 

“Hey y-” 

 

But she was already on top of him in a single leap. Bringing her knee into his mouth with a sickening crunch. She winced as his shattered teeth bit into her kneeca, but it kept him silent enough as she buried her fist into the bridge of his nose. All the weight of her small frame behind the blow, his head smashing against the decking and the impact of the hit travelling wonderfully up her arm. She kept the blows up until she felt bits of skull dig into her knuckles. 

 

Then she stood in the pool of blood and called out in a cheery voice. The man had been a scumbag afterall. Plus, it felt so good to do it. 

 

“Alright Watcher, we have a ship. Time to go!” 

 

She strode into the cockpit, leaving a trail of bloody bare footprints of the white tiling of the deck. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose shook her head as the realization of what had happened dawned on her. Durose was pissed, and frankly she didn’t know why. She typed a quick command on the console which started the ignition and countdown of the flight checklist, she slammed the automate button then spun the flight chair around 180 degrees and charged off after Durose. 

 

She had been very foolish, and now it would be a fight for their lives. SHe spotted him at the end of the corridor and dove towards the captain’s body, sliding beside the Cathar’s feet as she drug into the recently deceased pilot’s belt and pulled out the blaster pistol that had been stuck in its retention holster. She brought it in a snap up as three crew members rounded the corner calling out loudly that they had been boarded. They paused just a moment upon seeing the corpse, and Rose let fly a crimson bolt at one of the men’s heads as they returned fire enmass. 

 

A bolt burned through her kneecap as they beat a hasty retreat and she fell back in the puddle of the blood left by her kill. 

 

“Kriff it Im sorry Durose, I didn’t think. I never think.” 

 

She cursed, not at the pain, but her own stupidity.

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

This was a foul play. She had certainly gotten herself and her friends killed again. 

 

Again? She knew it had happened before, the agent had said so. He had been so cruel then, so rough to her upon waking in that horrid chamber. She ha-

 

She shook her head to clear away the rotten memories that had likely been caused by a dump of adrenaline and pain from the leg wound. She risked a glance at the torn, corbon scored, and bleeding wound and rolled her eyes. Another curse at herself and at the sound of the blasterfite from aft. She pushed herself up, engaged the autopilot with a turn of a key that had already been inserted by the dead captain and as the ion engines fired them to pull them out of the gravity well as she scooted herself to the edge of the cockpit door. She quickly examined the blaster for a moment before forcing herself through the pain she charged at a hobble down the corridor out of the cockpit, looking for Durose, cradling the blaster in stiff hands made even stiffer from the wound which tore at her with every move. She could see Durose, perhaps finishing off the hulk of a wookiee and she was about to call out that she could help when another voice pierced the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. 

 

Utini!

 

The sound of the ratlike warcry turned her head just as everything went a brilliant white. 

 

The Jawa discharged his weapon twice. The first shot taking her in the side and the second one spanning into the ceiling as the recoil had knocked him off balance. She cursed as the firey pain ripped through her and she went down hard. Without even thinking or willing it to happen, the blaster in her hand returned a swath of fire. Unaimed mostly and she walked the stream of red bolts into the tottering form of the Jawa until the magazine howled its emptiness with a vibration and the gun lay smoking on her lap. 

 

Gods that hurt. But did it? 

 

She spared a look and cursed again, her pain turning to panic. The space below her meagre breasts were coated in black burning skin, and seeping brown, boiled blood. 

 

Kriff. 

 

She let the blaster fall to the floor and pulled herself up by the side of the wall. Strangely she didn't much notice the pain from the wound in her knee, other than how uncomfortable it made walking. Her brain interpreted it with her military training and gave her a very bad prognosis, but it would take a bit of time she knew for her body to recognize the reality. So she instead made her way to Durose. She hugged him, looking at the passed out wookiee under his hands. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Her voice was soft, and a trail of brown blood guttered between her teeth. 

 

“You did really well Durose. And here I got uh…” She looked down again and chuckled, blood running freely now from her mouth down her chin. Her voice broke emotionally as tears began to gush down her face. “I…” She shook her head and kind of collapsed beside him and his kill. “I Kriffed up.” She really had, she had taken him from those he loved, given him companionship, and now she was going to leave him. She didn't want to leave him. Not like this. 

 

Not again

 

Her hand grasped at the fur on his shoulder. Feeling its softness. So very soft. 

 

“I set the autopilot to Cathar. I…don't feel so good.” 

 

Her hand trembled as she set her head against his shoulder, wishing that she could apologize for making such a mess on him. But it hurt so much to talk. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 10 months later...

“You know these ones can kill you with a single thought right Gren?” 

 

The Mandalorian shrugged, his rusted shoulder pouldrons dimly reflecting the scattering light of the small campfire that barely lit the gloomy cave. Rose mimicked the shrug over exaggeratedly and thumbed her nose at the older man. She flipped a vibroblade from her pouch and traced a glowing arc over the captive Jedi Knight, she brought it down fast, scraping the blade beside his ear before dancing away. 

 

“Wakey wakey Jedi Rat, Kad Ha’Rangir wants his blood.” 

 

She looked at the young Jedi and let the glitterstim ride her emotions though another pich. 

 

“Jedi are not good slaves Gren. They are good for sacrifice only. Perhaps we make a blood eagle?” She licked her dry lips, her bright blue eyes sparkling. “He hasn’t gotten to taste the Jedi in soooo long.” Her eyes widened impossibly big and she skipped back and forth beside the taller and more formidable Mandalorians who were laughing heartily at her antics. 

 

“He is hunger, he is thirst, he has waited a hundred generations to sup upon Jedi again. “ She pressed the now silent blade against the young man’s chest. Her fervor was high. “Call him Gren, draw the circle, prepare the fire!” 

 

She let out a hideous laugh then scowled at the young Jedi. A taunt, that was not echoed in her wide eyes. 

 

“Or perhaps he will simply reach out and yank on my aorta? Wouldn’t that be easier than being sacrificed?” her eyes stared, almost unseeing at Genesis. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Now now, it was the Sith that crashed that bloody moon into the damn city world, you think if we had the strength to do that we would simply have let ourselves get bogged down on this Shit world?” 

 

She spat onto the Jedi’s eyepatch and pressed the knife until its vibrations touched the bone structure of his ribcage. The smell of boiling blood and burning blood piqued her sense of smell and she grinned. 

 

“We were deemed to be rubbish that Kad Ha’Rangir tossed aside. Like a breeze blown before a firestorm. We have only one purpose now. To light the fire again.” 

 

She threw the young man down and tore the robe down his back. And placed the vibroblade along his spine. 

 

“Now you will be sacrificed. Say your prayers Jedi Knight.” She leaned down so that her lips caressed his right ear. “Unless you want to show us your power.” 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose let her eyebrows waggle in an almost comedic emphasis. 

 

“Wait did you think that Kad Ha’Rangir, the War God himself, Son of Fire, The Untamed, War-Aspect, and the Destroyer of Arasuum would not prey upon the weak? Her laugh was a mix of bitterness and madness. 

 

“We come to destroy Weakness little Jedi. For we are the harrowing flame, we are the crusade. Those that must shape the galaxy before the stage is set for the next war. For the Galaxy must be ready for what awaits it. And Weakness of any kind must be purged in the harrowing fire of Kad Ha’Rangir.” 

 

She let herself get picked up and thrown by the force push, landing lightly on her feet, her strong hand found the handle of the hatchet that hung from its leather loop on her belt. Its hilt was a strong ash wood, taken from the forests of some conquered planet in the middle core worlds. A planet she couldn't pronounce. One whose trees probably still burned. The hatchet in her hand began to hum in a furious rhythm. If there had been percussion behind it it would have matched the beating of her heart.

 

“Jedi have always preserved that weakness, and are knights of Arasuum. You embody His weakness. His Sloth, His mercy. And that is why this war has raged for millennia. For you lack the strength to finally finish it.” 

 

She flipped the vibroblade in her weak hand so that it was in a forward grip. Perfect for quickly striking beneath a guard. 

 

“So then give us the taste of your preservation Arasuum.” 

 

And then she leapt at him, the light of the campfire illuminating the tears upon her freckled cheeks. The wicked hatchet aiming for his exposed midsection. 

 

((1))

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The hum of the Jedi’s vibro-knuckler joined the rhythm of her own blades. The rest of the Mandalorians in the cave stood and began to join that rhythm with percussion. A song of war, a song of the old crusade. A song of Mand’alors long forgotten, the song of a people on the precipice of extinction. They drummed hands on armour or or the butts of blaster rifles on the ground to make the deep rhythm of destruction. The song of a heartbeat. And Rose reveled in it. 

 

The hatchet bit into him but found no purchase as he pushed against her, his large form for the moment unbalancing her and forcing her to make a quick sidestep in order to not be disarmed. But he did not follow through with a strike of his own so she pushed off her back foot and brought the vibroblade up in a quick stab towards his now exposed underarm as she passed him. It was not as strong as she would have liked it due to being unbalanced, but Vibroblades did not need a horrendous strength to kill. Turning back around with the hatchet humming near her ear, she grinned, flecks of blood splattering from its blade to coat the side of her face. 

 

The key, she knew, was to keep up a furious offense to break the root of his concentration, but he was demanding an answer. For this was as much a clash of ideologies as weapons. 

 

No. Weakness should never be preserved or guarded. It is not something precious. Weakness is to be destroyed.” She spat those words with a fierce growl, her voice low. “You do not craft a weapon out of weak metal without first purifying it in the fire.” 

 

And she struck again with the hatchet, its blade aiming for the slim crook between neck and shoulder. As she stepped into the swing, her knife up to deflect any counter strikes from the Jedi’s own vibro weapon. 

 

(Combat Action: Unbalanced by Genesis, struck at his underarm and neck.))

((2))

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Rose felt the blade yet again bite into flesh, the thirsty blade drinking of it. But again she was hurled away. This time harder, as if a wall had been suddenly thrown at her. Tears stung her eyes as she stumbled into a crouch. The taste of copper flooded her senses as she blinked away the tears and felt the blood of her broken nose dripping down her chin. She reset her stance and coiled her back leg below her as she waited for his counter strike, the attack to follow his blow that could have finished her. But instead he chose to speak. 

 

Time? Nurture? This galaxy had been given decades of time to heal and prepare themselves for the unavoidable return of the Sith Lords. But what had the Galaxy done? It had sat on its haunches, dismissed its military, and let itself be infiltrated by a thousand leeches in the form of a senate. She had seen it. She had seen the suffering of the thousands. The escape ships on fire below mandalorian artillery. The Galactic Alliance crumbling while its rich made away in private craft. While trillions died in smoke and horror. That was the true price of sloth. And the Jedi had paid for it, the galactic alliance had paid for it. But they had not learned the lesson from it. 

 

The galaxy deserved to be molded by stronger hands than that of the failed Jedi Order! Her voice was muffled by the bleeding state of her nose, every word echoed by a spatter of blood upon the cave floor. 

 

“Did not the Jedi and your Galactic Alliance have years to prepare for us?”  She spoke of the grand threat of the Sith and the Mandalorians. Her voice following the beat of the mandalorian war song rose with its pitch. “You had your nurture and your time and you failed. It was left for us wolves to tear apart!” 

 

But she had given him enough respite. She had answered his debate in turn. For, what respite was there when the drums were beating the song of war? Only blood would seal the argument. 

 

So she took the step and closed the distance, driving the vibro hatchet with all the force her muscles could bear in a downward swing to his exposed and wounded shoulder. The drums were begging for his blood. And this time she did not hold back and followed the first strike with a stab to his chest. Her god demanded his death, and she would give him the blood he desired. 


 

((Combat actions: Took the force push to the face, strike again to the shoulder and to the chest))

((3)) 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

But the drumming beat of the Mandalorians did not relent, and the the vibroblade sank up to the hilts in the right side of the Jedi Apprentice’s chest. It rattled against the back of his rib cage and collapsed his right lung. She withdrew the blade after snapping off its microvibration function as a new call burst through battle stupor. There were more jedi. 

 

And thus her dreams of a dark sacrifice were at an end. She had won the argument, but not the war itself. She cursed softly and looked up to the caves dark roof. Kad Ha’Rangir was a harsh master. She placed her hand on Genesis’s chest and pressed upon the wound. But the blood flow was already slackening. Miraculous jedi healing had saved the young man from instantaneous death and somewhere in Rose’s now tiring head she knew it was for the better. A hostage like him would save them from the brunt of the Jedi Master’s wroth. 

 

She lifted a thin hand and stared at the clotting blood that covered her pale skin then stood looking at her brothers and sisters who were readying their weapons. She pulled Genesis to his feet and walked him to the entrance to the cave where she could already hear the dim hum of lightsabers. 

 

A wookiee and a Mon Calamari? She gave them a bloody smile and an equally bloody wave. And when she spoke, her free hand spoke along with her in the lorrdian kinetic language she had grown up with. 

 

“It appears that your boy here believed that he could take on the might of Kad Ha’Rangir. We have proven him wrong. But fear not, the fool still lives. If barely. We offer him as a price for our escape, but if you wish to take us, then you will loose the boy.” 

 

She set him down against the wall and gave them a shrug her vibroblade coming back to life in her hand. Would they let the Mandalorians walk away? Or would there be another fight? 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Then he is yours to do with as you wish. Though I would recommend you teach him to not run off from the pack.” She squinted a grin towards the Wookiee and Mon Calamari before giving them a near mocking bow. She gave a wave and the troup of battered mandalorians made thor way towards one of the escape shuttles that had been seeded on world from the Xaakzaamheid several months before. 

 

It would be a long journey. But she did not look back. There would be another future for her people. For her god. 

ROSEOFCSHARON.png.1c839ef05c26256052b4d3a8e8030872.png

Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

×
×
  • Create New...