Private A Pervasive Shadow

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Just another day in the Clangrounds

Although well-liked for their role in the repeated defense of their homeworld, the New Mandalorians remained somewhat... mysterious and intimidating, to most inhabitants of Onderon.​

​

In the long history of their world through the eras, Mandalorians had only ever cared to prey upon them. The fortress erected on Dxun was a testament to that sentiment, for even now, the Neo-Crusaders schemed within, plotting to take Onderon by force. Earnest as they were in their dedication to their new homeworld, the New Mandalorians still had a long way to go to fully shed this image, but their noble deeds helped the locals warm up to the idea of sharing a world with them, little by little. For now, they remained but an occasional sight within most civilized cities, content to stick to themselves within the lands granted unto them by the crown for services rendered. ​

​

To those in need of an audience, the nearest landing point was to be found outside the tranquil village of Thapsus, established within the lowlands, upon a patch of cleared jungle. One only had need to walk for a few minutes to find themselves amidst the wilderness; a dangerous, yet gorgeous place to behold. Those with the ability to navigate through the foliage may very well just find themselves reaching the steep incline leading into the highlands, where the Mandalorians had made their home; naught but palissade walls to keep out predators and unwanted guests, guarding a quaint little village within. Visitors, of course, were expected to wait outside and by the great double gates, open as they were whilst daylight shone; upon the battlements, Mandalorian sentries kept to their patrols, occasionally coming down to address those travelers who had come all this way to talk to them.​

​

Farmers, by and large, come to answer the Duchess' call for those with the courage and determination to become Hastati. Most who entered were sent home packing after only a few days; fifty trainees per class, with only half a dozen making it past the final challenge and earning the right to call themselves auxiliaries. After one such group of excited young farmers was waved inside by a bored-looking gatekeeper, the latest arrival was acknowledged with an upnod.​

​

"Su cuy'gar, aruetii. What brings you to the New Mandalorians?"​

​

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Jenn Kryze //:

Woostri changed everything.

Allyson felt the lightsaber that she had bled hit against her leg as she walked. It hadn't been that long since she had felt the call of the Dark Side, its swell of emotion causing her to strike with lethality. It was sickening, the way the azure blue of her blade - one she crafted on her own with her former lover's help shifted to the Sith's crimson red. The rest of the time afterward was something the Corellian tried not to remember. As much as she tried, she could see and feel everything that occurred in her small apartment every time she closed her eyes.

She just wanted to forget.

Stopping in a small clearing, Allyson looked down at the device she held. A small hologram speaking the cantor of the Shadow replayed the mission briefing she had re-recorded. The Tsis'Kaar were curious about a current unified group of Mandalorians. They were independent of the Neo Crusade but had been seen on the battlefield on Woostri—namely, their leader. Her mission was to gather any intel on the group and see if there was any way to dismantle it from the inside.

The latter half of the mission was more for following infiltration briefings. Still, Allyson would inquire if she could cause distrust between them and the Alliance.

Continuing her way, she hid the device and marched to the compound's gates. The bored-looking guard approached, and Allyson smiled as sweetly as she could. In her youth, she had grown up with the Rekali clan, Ember Rekali having adopted her after the destruction of Corellia. Her Mando'a was decent enough for one brought into the culture. Tilting her head slightly, she lowered the balaclava's facial covering down, showing herself, hoping to be accepted as a friendly person.

"Su cuy'gar, Ni seek morut'yc morut, Ni've heard be gar duchess, I've heard this is the place for lost souls to find themselves." Allyson had received the name through the briefing with small still images of the one called Duchess.

Her eyes glanced behind the guard, seeing quick entryways and exits that could be needed if things went downhill once she was inside. But the hard part was actually getting inside.

"I'm sorry if I've been misinformed; the New Mandalorians are my last hope for survival."

 

[Jenn Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Onderon Highlands
| Objective | Entrance sought

The stranger spoke a modicum of Mando'a - something to put any self-respecting child of Mandalore on guard, for outsiders were neither expected nor desired to learn of their culture... and flatter them, in some cases. For theirs was not a monolithic culture. The New Mandalorians were proof of that, standing apart from the Neo-Crusaders as they were, pursuing their own path to righteousness alone, rejecting unity with their kindred.​

​

But it was only when the gatekeeper's gaze fell upon the lightsaber hanging at the mysterious figure's hip that their stance finally changed, standing just a little straighter, their body language betraying rigidity, if not unease. Although the Duchess had established contact with the infuriating mystics of the New Jedi Order and began the long and difficult process of mending relations between the children of their ancestral enemy and their own people, many remained tense when in the presence of such people... to say nothing of the much less agreeable alternative.​

​

That this was no Jedi at all, but a Sith. The much-hated despoilers of Manda'yaim, murderers of countless Mandalorians, whose crimes were without counting.​

​

"Are you a Jedi?" asked the gatekeeper warily, the hold they kept on their carbine a little more firm, then. Ready to be raised in but a moment to open fire, if only to draw attention from the other warriors inside before this potential thread could slip past them.​

​

Tension lay heavy in the air between the two... until another armored figure approached from within the Clangrounds themselves, tapping the gatekeeper on the shoulder, communicating something through private comms, helmet to helmet. Whatever was exchanged was enough to convince the guard to step aside, adopting a near-parade-ready rest, and look straight ahead. ​

​

"The Duchess is eager to hear your story, and what it is you wish to find among us", spoke the warrior simply, the crimson of her beskar standing out from the many shades of blue sported by the majority of those within. By comparison, hers was a positively archaic, if elegant beskar'gam - all too clearly fashioned in the style of a feudal knight. With but a gesture of her hand (her gauntlet styled after small claws), the warrior beckoned her past the walls and into the Clangrounds proper.​

​

Overhead, an owl flew by...​

​

Allyson Locke ​

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Jenn Kryze //:

The guard's question threw the Corellian off. It was simple one, Allyson knew the answer to. Yet, she hesitated, her fingers brushing against the lightsaber at her side, an eerie weight against her hip. A silent reminder of her betrayal.

"Yes, I am," she admitted, voice steady despite the turmoil beneath. "But it's dangerous to say so."

Her gaze met the guard's, searching. She could sense his unease; did he already suspect it? Had word of her betrayal traveled this far? The fragile trust she held with the Grandmaster felt waned. Allyson had hoped the woman would at least allow her time to distance herself from the SIA before judgment came.

She parted her lips to explain, but before she could, the Duchess had already spoken, her verdict unspoken yet absolute. Allyson's attention shifted to the second Mandalorian, her gaze lingering on the antique armor she wore. Ember once told her about such relics, armor passed down through generations, a testament to a clan's endurance, victories, and losses. The woman before her had either come from a line that had prospered or one that had endured tragedy and survived it.

Allyson bowed her head, a quiet sign of respect. "Thank you," she smiled, stepping forward while drawing her hood over her head.

The Shadow knew little of the New Mandalorians beyond their tenuous alliance if one could call it that, with the Galactic Alliance. Their leader, this Duchess, had fought and won on the battlefield. But Allyson hadn't seen the fight nor knew the full extent of the woman's skill. She walked into the lion's den blind, armed only with instinct and honed expertise.

As they moved, something flickered in the sky, an owl's wings spread wide against the dim light. It was a fleeting glimpse but enough to stir something deep within her: wisdom, prosperity, good fortune, or perhaps just another whisper from the Force guiding a wayward child.

For now, she followed. She studied the people around her, their faces, their postures. Still, she needed to prove her presence mattered before she could genuinely assess them. Exhaling softly, she pulled the saber further beneath her cloak, recalling how the guard had looked at her. She didn't want to see that same scrutiny in their leader's eyes.

She understood her mission. And yet, buried beneath her orders, there was something more—an ember of hope. That maybe, among these people, she could find a sliver of redemption.

As they neared their destination, Allyson lowered her hood in respect. Her bright and searching gaze lifted in preperation to meet this Duchess. Perhaps she sought salvation from the Mandalorian leader. But maybe this Duchess could find something within Allyson as well.