- Joined
- May 22, 2011
- Messages
- 3,848
- Reaction score
- 78
Corden couldn't stand idle, nor did pacing sate his desire to take action. He had been awake for nearly forty-eight standard hours, perhaps many more, but it was what had occured in the last twenty-four that remained at the forefront of his mind. There had been a sudden shift in strategy. A call from Mand'alor to abandon all they had worked for, their new home, and move elsewhere... to worlds that had no true worth save for how little of value they were to the Alliance, who seemed to hold sway over where the Mandalorians did and didn't settle. Mand'alor, it seemed, was just an Alliance puppet. Corden had fought long and hard and risked much to see a new Mand'alor rise to lead them into what he believed would be a new era. Now it seemed all was for nought. This new leader was inept as the last had been and Corden's dismay was evident in his posture, as was his anger.
It was because of his views that he had so often been at odds with other Mandalorians. His way had once been the standard, but times had obviously changed. He had thought to sway them, or at the very least serve as a guiding light, but some things were beyond saving. Many of his people had forgotten their roots and abandoned honor. They had lost their identity as a people, as a culture. Corden despised corruption and incompetence in any form. He despised weakness. Now, he was all the more aware of the cancer plaguing his people.
Indeed, many things had changed. Corden Vencu decided he would adapt and overcome in his own way. And it was at that moment that he felt a darker side awaken deep within him, one that had always been present, but carefully suppressed. It was time for action. It was time for a shift that would forever change the Mandalorian people. In the haze of emotion that coursed through him, Corden took hold of his hatred and embraced it fully. What reserve he had melted away and a thirst for blood, for vengeance, occupied his thoughts. He would do everything within his power to see that this cancer was cut out and destroyed, even if he had to gut those he had once considered vode one by one to remove it completely. They were the traitors. They were everything that he despised. Weak, inept, worthless; dar'manda. They weren't deserving of mercy or pity. Fanatic, that's what they would call him. No, that's what they would scream as he choked the very last breath of air from their lungs with his gauntleted hands. Their fates were sealed.
Corden continued to hammer the blade of precious ore he had worked to forge all through the night. As his thoughts grew darker, weighing more heavily on his mind, so too did his hammer weigh in on the blade. With a resounding crack, the delicate metal shattered in two and Corden immediatly let the tongs and hammer fall to the stone floor, disgusted. A loud thud marked the fall of the hammer, a metallic clatter the impact of the tongs. After a moment, he reached out to take one half of the broken weapon. Impurities in the ore had weakened the metal. Corden thought of the weak and inept warriors among the people he had once considered his own. It was the impurities that had caused such a fine instrument of death to weaken and shatter; it was the weak, the inept, and the corrupt that would lead the Mandalorians to do the same.
It was because of his views that he had so often been at odds with other Mandalorians. His way had once been the standard, but times had obviously changed. He had thought to sway them, or at the very least serve as a guiding light, but some things were beyond saving. Many of his people had forgotten their roots and abandoned honor. They had lost their identity as a people, as a culture. Corden despised corruption and incompetence in any form. He despised weakness. Now, he was all the more aware of the cancer plaguing his people.
Indeed, many things had changed. Corden Vencu decided he would adapt and overcome in his own way. And it was at that moment that he felt a darker side awaken deep within him, one that had always been present, but carefully suppressed. It was time for action. It was time for a shift that would forever change the Mandalorian people. In the haze of emotion that coursed through him, Corden took hold of his hatred and embraced it fully. What reserve he had melted away and a thirst for blood, for vengeance, occupied his thoughts. He would do everything within his power to see that this cancer was cut out and destroyed, even if he had to gut those he had once considered vode one by one to remove it completely. They were the traitors. They were everything that he despised. Weak, inept, worthless; dar'manda. They weren't deserving of mercy or pity. Fanatic, that's what they would call him. No, that's what they would scream as he choked the very last breath of air from their lungs with his gauntleted hands. Their fates were sealed.
Corden continued to hammer the blade of precious ore he had worked to forge all through the night. As his thoughts grew darker, weighing more heavily on his mind, so too did his hammer weigh in on the blade. With a resounding crack, the delicate metal shattered in two and Corden immediatly let the tongs and hammer fall to the stone floor, disgusted. A loud thud marked the fall of the hammer, a metallic clatter the impact of the tongs. After a moment, he reached out to take one half of the broken weapon. Impurities in the ore had weakened the metal. Corden thought of the weak and inept warriors among the people he had once considered his own. It was the impurities that had caused such a fine instrument of death to weaken and shatter; it was the weak, the inept, and the corrupt that would lead the Mandalorians to do the same.
Last edited by a moderator: