The Wolf

The pods launched, silently screeching across the black void of space, each of the occupants dead set in their mission. There enough to cover their needs. The distraction at the other end of the planet- was working wonders for their incursion. The pods were stealth-equipped, designed by Mandalorians. They knew exactly what not to look for. Each of the IFFs was turned off, and the ensuing combat was guaranteed to mask their approach.
Preliat stared at his reflection in the T-shape visor, his hair cropped short and his features weathered. He did not look the part of a young man anymore. He was officially middle aged. In fact, the day was his 40th birthday. 40 years old, and his life had more heartache and destruction in that short timeframe, than over thousands of years.
The odd thing, is that he did not feel the impending doom as their intended target came closer and closer. History often forgot victors, wars, the vanquished, the honored dead. How many people truly recalled Malachor V? The Revanchists? The Civil War with Darth Maul and the Death Watch.
But everyone remembered the Mandalorians. Children were told stories of them at night. Depending on who you were, it was stories of heroism and bravery- or of stern warning. Armored boogeyman, coming to reap their souls should they misbehave. And misbehaved, had Mandalore's children had.
Become soft.
Become weak.
They betrayed the values that were set forth in the Civil War.
Preliat Mantis killed his best friend in order to establish a better Mandalore. A better future. And the Empire, the would-be reclaimers of Mandalore- trampled upon the foundation that they built. Built a castle of lies, deception, and hubris. Preliat and the others in the pods were first in line to correct the hubris.
The Star Forge.
Years ago, when the Mandalorians made the galaxy tremble only years prior- Canderous Ordo, Mandalore the Preserver, fought to destroy, fought with Revan to destroy the Rakatan war machine. The instrument of Sith power lead to their defeat, and eventual downfall.
And above the sun of Mandalore, where so many Mandalorians basked in it's loving rays, where his people had garnered strength, grown crops, and raised their children- lay a monstrosity. A testament to Mandalore the Infernal's never-ceasing ability to let her people slip into darkness, into madness that had once been swept away. Preliat needed to send a message. Preliat needed to remind the people of Mandalore of their intent. Of their mission.
With the ping of Silas' message across his HUD, preliat smiled. They were now engaged.
Preliat pulled the helmet over his face and braced for the impact.
The pods landed on the Solar Shipyards with little notice- and they would, for the most part, be unopposed for a brief, opportune time. Any of the station's meager defenses and staff could not withstand the might of Preliat and his compatriots. Preliat stood tall on the platform after disembarking from the pod. A one-way trip, at least, on those.
He turned and readied the carbine, turning his head towards the station before them. They had quite a distance to go before they reached their target on the Shipyards. They needed to get to it quickly to capture the shipyards. Preliat took a knee, scanning the area, a large hangar facility, for incoming threats, but so far, they were safe- for now. Ion rifles, grenades, heavy repeaters, disruptor rifles- all tools of the trade for an elite strike team.
