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The Mand’alor kept his trained eyes on Ameryn and Victor, both of whom seemed to be pressing the offensive against him. Victor’s shots would have skimmed just past him as he dove forward and detached his jetpack, barely knicking his armor. Even with her burn wounds and internal injuries, the...

The Mand’alor watched the flames engulf Orsen Vizsla several meters before their blades could meet, roasting the elderly Alor in short manner. The sounds of skin bubbling and fusing with metal were all that remained as his charred corpse fell from the sky like a lump of coal. It was a...

The Mand’alor gripped his beskad with murderous intent, his trained eyes scanning the battlefield as everything unfolded. His grenade scattered the Alors and gave him both room for maneuver and time to plan his attack out. Knuckles turned white with the savage grip he maintained on the weapon...

The Mand’alor’s stern gaze fell over the Ordo first as she shook her head and pushed off the pillar. As she spoke, his brow furrowed, and his teeth pressed against each other as his frown deepened. He figured the traitor would be the first to speak against his rule, and every word that left her...

The even rise and fall of his chest was in time with his fingers drumming rhythmically against his breastplate as he waited. His eyelids were like heavy curtains for his eyes, and his mind was a mountain with clouds drifting lazily by snow-capped peaks. Few idle thoughts ran through his mind and...

Mandalore Sundari Throne Room Ruins Theme [slide] Leandros woke with a start, cold sweat forming on his face. His hands had instinctively reached for his beskad even in his sleep, and he now gripped the weapon intensely, his knuckles quickly beginning to turn white. The nightmare had not...

Leandros watched his comrades dispatch their foes with violent intent, beskad slick with Imperial and Sith blood alike. The trio made short work of any foe in their path, and soon they were storming down the halls, hunting for the Emperor. Where Koil moved quietly, Leandros stormed ahead...

The tournament had come to its final round. Two champions have emerged amongst the mando’ade, their clear demonstrations of skill awe-inspiring to the other fighters of their people. From the trial of teams to the trial of skill, these fighters had successfully survived and beaten their...

Leandros had rushed forward ahead of the pack, beskad in hand. His desire for bloodshed outweighed his tactical pragmatism, and the bloodlust in his eyes blurred together with the red sands in his periphery. Ahead, he saw only the promise of conquest, of vengeance. It had been too long since his...

Leandros smiled at her gestures. Visiting the statue and reading the letter was sobering for the both of them, and he knew it was a beneficial detour. He’d never have known about that letter if they had continued on, and having shared in its message, the two were now even closer than before...

Teran acted quickly, taking advantage of the chaos erupting as he lashed out with the Force. His saber blocked his first shots, but the marauder who grabbed him from behind joined the Manda early. The corpse hit the Mand’alor with melted metal searing as it rapidly cooled. Leandros shoved the...

Leandros had closed in to strike at the man, certain he was about to end the fight. Rather than bring his beskad up to block or strike out, however, Teran lashed out with the Force. His lightsaber flew into his hand and Leandros flew backwards, skidding his heels along the ground, accustomed to...

Theme The pale sun of Korriban reflected off of his ancient visor, the sand-gold of his armor standing in stark contrast to the red sands around them. This whole planet reeked with the foul stench of the Sith, and every moment standing on its profane surface did nothing but incense him. Barely...

Leandros stood hunched forward, shifting his weight occasionally to ease the fire burning in his thigh from Teran’s swift knee. This moment of respite would allow them both to recover from the attacks they’ve suffered, but he was losing time to act. Teran would still be feeling his headbutt, and...

Leandros was fixated on the statue of his wife for a time, remembering old memories that they had together. From their first down times spent hanging out at her home, to the basilisk race, to sitting by the lake on their beautiful home world – the one now choked with ash around them. From the...

Leandros was certain that his gambit with the headbutt would pay off, given Teran’s lack of… any kind of armor at all, actually. The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom walking around without the comforting embrace of his armor, especially in a galaxy so unforgiving and dangerous. The number of times...

Leandros hated this. Imperial uniforms and armor were too stuffy, ill-fitting, and generally uncomfortable to wear. He’d much rather just raid this prison in his own armor, bring fire and fury to these Imperials dressed in clothing he actually wore on a daily basis, and have that be their little...

Leandros stood like a statue, observing Teran as he took up arms and put down the sacred weapon of his Order. It had to have been a difficult thing, stripping himself of the one truly identifiable symbol he carried, and the Mand’alor felt it probably was similar to if he were to remove his mask...

Leandros waited for Teran to make the move he wanted him to make. The ball was in his court now, and whatever decision he made would be wholly unacceptable if it did not involve the death or exile of his Grandmaster. However, rather than cave and buckle like he expected, Teran took offense to...

Leandros grumbled to himself as Trixie pointed out that they still got what they were after anyways. While true, he wondered what they would do if she had blown up everything they needed to get into the prison. He stood up and looked at her while she snatched his ID card. ”It’s the-“ she shot...