The Wolf
A white overcoat with blue accents, over Beskar'kandar armor. The snowfall was heavy on Mandalore now. He could feel it beneath his boots. He could feel the crunch. He could feel the weight. And he could feel the weight of the gun in his hands. The weight of the guilt he felt. All those lives. All those battles he fought. All the things he had done.
For nothing.
Preliat glanced upwards at the tower, knowing that in reality, it was a feat of engineering, a collection of steel, beams, screws, and windows that made up a building. It was what this building meant, it was this building was, that made it special. That made it unique. That made it...alive. He was staring at Mandalmotors tower. The essence of Mandalorian engineering, Mandalorian ingenuity. He looked behind him, awaiting his company. Despicable as they were, they were effective at what they did. And it was by his will, by his presence alone, that they were here. Sith. How long he had fought them- and now, he was working with them. Working with them was a stretch- it was a relationship. Symbiotic, or parasitic- only time would tell for them. But after this, all of his years spent, all of his heartbreak, all of the things he had done in defense and in the service of the Mandalorians, would vanish. They would be forever tarnished, forever marring his image as a warrior of the Mandalorians.After this, he would be just another savage. Another traitor. Another one gone over to the dark side. Such an archaic term for a complicated issue. Why was he here? To burn. He wasn't here to send a message. He wasn't here to do anything. He was here, at the most important place in Keldabe- to burn it. To raze, to destroy. There wasn't a point to anything that he did- he just wanted to destroy. He felt betrayed by what the Mandalorians were doing, by @Azrael- by all those he had done so much for, he felt betrayed.
So Preliat walked into the entrance, and grasped at his cloak. The security guard approached him, unaware of whom he was. In fact, even he did get a good look at his face under the white cloak he was wearing, he'd not get much. Many people had not seen his face. His face for many years was his helmet. The Wolf had a unique armor set, and his face, was probably sitting somewhere in [member="Gilamar Skirata"]'s personal storage. He had left it there, left it there as a warning. And now, he was here to make good on that warning. He locked eyes with the guard, and instantly, the trained guard felt something was wrong. But Preliat was violent in his plan of action, and had already made his move. He savagely assaulted him, and probably broke every bone in the man's face with a few blows from his crushgaunt-adorned hands.
And the weight of the gun became apparent. The weight of his actions became clear. He took aim at the bloody guard, and put a bolt into his chest. He turned to the panicked workers, and returned fire to the guards who engaged him. They weren't a match for Preliat. He squeezed the trigger, and with each time, someone died. Mandalorians. Something he wasn't anymore. Now, he wasn't sure what he was. He just knew that he was here to fuck shit up. And right now, as he massacred the security team, he was precisely doing that.