Takadona
Gett'se Vizsla was tired. The scans from orbit had indicated a small clearing in the forests of Takadona that he figured would be a good place to set up camp for the night. The old Mandalorian brought the older gunship down to land, thruster's washing bark off a tree, repulsers sending forest floor debris flying. The Y-wing shuddered as it settled in on its landing gear. He cut the engine and sat for a moment, images of bloodshed flashing from recent memory, watching once more as his youngest fell to the blade of another Mandalorian.
The cockpit hissed and Gett'se stirred, climbing out, still clad in his beskar'gam. Swinging down the ladder rungs on the side of the ship, his knees ached. He was almost happy to feel the crunching of twigs under his boot as he turned to survey his landing zone. A small, natural clearing that had been stripped of brush by his landing. A perfect place to dig in for the night.
The Mandalorian found an ideal patch of ground, near the roots of an old tree. His gloved hand brushed the tree's bark for a moment, its skin like his own, the mottled and worn bark nearly matching the scuffed, dented, and scarred, carbon scorched armor he wore. A short shovel in hand, he began to dig just outside the root system of the tree. He could have just slept in his Y-wing, where he spent most of his nights in the small personnel bay that had been fashioned into a home, but he wanted to feel the air of the night sky on his face.
@Eccles