Zygerria. Symbol of slavery if ever there was one. It was not alone. Other worlds condoned the practice, treated it as a kind of sport as much as an economy. Yet, where worlds like Karazak had since broken the chains, cracked the collars and freed the slaves, Zygerria was ever as stubborn as a bantha with a bond of its own.
Zygerria… Casany Praxor thought as she gazed out the window of the starship breaking the atmosphere. It was alone but she was not, with vode in tow and Solus Mandalorians. How proud is your king now? Kotii Solus could answer that, and he was not alone either.
The badger and others beside him had crushed the monarchy, the Black Hand’s own two hands had gutted the king, just as his broadcast had promised would come to pass. That was yesterday, more or less, and today was a new day.
On this day, other Mandalorians had come to kiss the dirt baked with the blood of souls enslaved. Souls freed, Cas corrected herself. Not all, but enough, and more to come. She had come to help them, arm them, train them; but, first, that meant flying them and then some. And what better way to steer a crusade than in a Crusader?
From the sky, the harbinger that harbored the True Mandalorians approached the surface. The ship coasted across the barren plans and found purchase atop a mesa. Beyond and beneath it, an aerial view had already confirmed the Crusader II-class corvette nestled in the middle of a walled complex. It was guarded.
Naturally, not every Zygerrian was swayed by the hammer that fell from Solus’ hand, king or no king. Traditions were not so easily broken, and over there was a slaver compound unwilling to unlock the chains.
So we will break them, Cas promised as she descended the ship’s ramp, landing struts engaged, though hers was more the walk of a soldier than a strut upon the land.
Armored head to toe, red gold beskar glinting in the sunlight, she observed her quarry behind a black visor. Blood for blood, she thought of those slavers below and the slaves in the ground, and the fire that did not discriminate the dead. Ashes to ashes.
@Vicc125 @Charles
Zygerria… Casany Praxor thought as she gazed out the window of the starship breaking the atmosphere. It was alone but she was not, with vode in tow and Solus Mandalorians. How proud is your king now? Kotii Solus could answer that, and he was not alone either.
The badger and others beside him had crushed the monarchy, the Black Hand’s own two hands had gutted the king, just as his broadcast had promised would come to pass. That was yesterday, more or less, and today was a new day.
On this day, other Mandalorians had come to kiss the dirt baked with the blood of souls enslaved. Souls freed, Cas corrected herself. Not all, but enough, and more to come. She had come to help them, arm them, train them; but, first, that meant flying them and then some. And what better way to steer a crusade than in a Crusader?
From the sky, the harbinger that harbored the True Mandalorians approached the surface. The ship coasted across the barren plans and found purchase atop a mesa. Beyond and beneath it, an aerial view had already confirmed the Crusader II-class corvette nestled in the middle of a walled complex. It was guarded.
Naturally, not every Zygerrian was swayed by the hammer that fell from Solus’ hand, king or no king. Traditions were not so easily broken, and over there was a slaver compound unwilling to unlock the chains.
So we will break them, Cas promised as she descended the ship’s ramp, landing struts engaged, though hers was more the walk of a soldier than a strut upon the land.
Armored head to toe, red gold beskar glinting in the sunlight, she observed her quarry behind a black visor. Blood for blood, she thought of those slavers below and the slaves in the ground, and the fire that did not discriminate the dead. Ashes to ashes.
@Vicc125 @Charles