A man walked to the tower. He was in armor, helmeted but with a special menace to it. All around him he was covered in dirty, mummy-like bandages and rags. He carried upon his back a spiked object made from pure Beskar. Whatever yellow was left upon his visible grey armor had been sandblasted away. His hands were covered in Beskar gloves; Crushgaunts. Along his belt were Flechette Pistols, and also upon his back a Blaster Rifle with a Bayonet and Flamethrower. He was tall, very muscular, and very heavy. His feet thumped across the ground in a rhythmic pattern. His various grenades clicked together upon his belt. If the description wasn't enough, he was completely combat ready, though he wasn't looking for combat. This of course normal on Mandalore, to carry ones armor and weapons. But he was different, not only in his particular species (that ordinarily would be difficult to tell, if not for his modified helmet and signature rags).
The Prince of Sand, the Mandalore of Tatooine, Veteran of both Junction attacks, Concord Dawn, and the Battle of Mandalore. He had brought and lead Tusken Raiders here in the last battle, before the devastating nuclear weapon detonated. Many of his men died, the Five Hundred. He had gone back to Tatooine after the Invasion was repelled, went back to his exile as a Tusken Warlord. After leaving a second time, he doubted he would ever boast the title again. He did however, boast a new trinket around his neck, a Krayt Dragon Pearl. He wasn't usually one for jewelry, but he liked its glint and it showed publicly he had killed one with his own two hands... for those whom knew what it was.
But he was to the place of his childhood now, and he saw very few he recognized any more. These were drinking days, for sure. He had prepared himself some sugar in a pouch around his belt. He had taken a liking to more Tusken ways of intoxication. He wondered if mixing sugar to Tihaar would make him doubly drunk twice as quick. Only one way to find out. Like all the others, he stepped to were towards the guards. He was not recognized, his accent was thickened after this long time, and such a long time in the desert rendered his armor dulled and not recognizable. They stopped him hesitantly. It had been a while since he practiced his basic.
"Hutuun... Kyramud. Me, I am he." He struggled to pronounce. "Fought Junction, Concord Down, Mandalore. I saw the nuke. Brought Tusken with me." He continued to clarify, getting back into his old tongue.