A will to triumph.

[Nightmare Moon]

In a grassy glade on Tython a great golden form kneeled deep in thought. Sunlight shone through the gaps in the trees and reflected casting small pools of radiance amongst the shade. At Rathru's side lay his blade Barnstokkr eight feet of gleaming metal charged with the potent energies of the force. It was clear that while much effort had been poured into the weapon it was still the work of a novice - though no one would be breaking it anytime soon. The force imbual had seen to that but it lacked the perfection and deadly beauty that accompanied the works of true masters. It served its purpose however and many a sith spawned monstrosity had met their end upon its edge.

Rathru himself was pondering what little he knew about Mandalorians. What he had heard seemed to be utter paradoxes: On one hand they claimed to have honour and then went on to slaughter innocents. They based their culture on the beliefs of a long dead race but then mocked the Jedi for being old fashioned and not suited for the galaxy. And yet in some respects they acted more like knights than Jedi did. They swore allegiance to their lord and clan and wielded weapons and armour of hard metal not the ephemeral blades of light that Rathu could not bare to wave around.

Not that he would ever think of joining them of course. His was the path of righteousness and while the Jedi order was not perfect he agreed with their core principles - but he needed to understand the Mandalorians and perhaps learn a thing or two about their swordsmanship while he was here.