The Golden Dragon
~2 Years Prior
It had begun with a clanging, almost imperceptible but gradually growing louder. Eventually, the sound reverberated through the tunnels deep below the Temple of Javarr. These tunnels were inaccessible from the outside, and certainly nobody had ever dared to try to breach them. Until that moment. Hordes of twisted, mutated Vong had gathered at the entrances of these caverns that were used for transporting finished Kyr'bes Buy'ce products. They tried to break in, only to be met with the security measures of ARTUS the Forgemind. Flames ripped through the tunnels, incinerating the Vong. However, the main entrances to the temple above for less fortunate. The actual entrance to the temple itself was up a long, steep, and arduous mountain, buffered by the constant wind of Kestri's permanent winter. Still, for the past twenty-something years, the Vong had bided their time, slowly amassing strength and numbers, hiding deep below the surface. In a rush, they ascended upon the surface, hitting every settlement, major and minor alike. Though not actually a settlement, the Temple of Javarr was temporary home to many students who came to dedicate themselves to the art of smithing in various forms, learning from various Forgemasters, who were more artisans than warriors. As such, they were woefully unprepared for the oncoming onslaught.
Sahan had been absorbed in genetic research in his lab in the factory below and had not even noticed what was going on until ARTUS informed him of the destruction of rogue Vong in the tunnels. He dismissed it, since the problem had seemingly been dealt with. That is, until he took his secured private lift up to the temple to find his brethren completely slaughtered by Vong that had scaled the mountainside. In a fit of rage, Sahan saw red and blacked out, only coming to to find himself covered in Vong blood, endless corpses at his feet. He had single-handedly taken out the entire horde of Vong at the temple, but not a one of his comrades had survived...
All across Kestri, the slaughter was just as bad, from White Scar to Tor Valum. Many fought back and drove back the menace, but many more perished, leaving the Enclave in shambles.
Present Day
Sahan floated in a tank of synthetic bacta. This stuff was on the weaker side, but it was a lot easier to get hold of. Music played in his ears, soothing melodies meant to calm his emotions. He was still enraged. At a Verd for claiming the title of Mand'alor, at his brethren who chose to follow the man, at the Verd's missile that had destroyed his armor, at the Sith named Gath that he had had to hold down for said missile to hit and kill him, and at the Sith for even existing. But all that rage was illogical, he knew that in his mind, even if his soul screamed otherwise. He had to repair his armor. He had to find that cure. Anger and other pointless emotions were only a distraction. Maybe the Jedi were right in that regard. But only that one.Sahan did not yet know that his father Siv had finally returned to Kestri. The Sahan that floated in the healing tank would probably be unrecognizable. He had had much of his flesh burned away by the Defoliator in severe third-degree burns on 100% of his body. It was nothing short of miraculous that he had survived at all, much less walked away from it. If he had not been wearing his armor, he would not have survived at all. His flesh was regenerating, the healing spurred by medical technology, skin grafts, and other things. He was actually healing surprisingly quickly, especially considering the artificial bacta was weaker than standard bacta. It looked as though he would not even have any scarring, with the only telltale sign of the burns being the complete lack of hair.
As he floated in the tank, he had no way of knowing someone important would be coming to visit him. The lift down to his lab only allowed access to him, plus anyone he told ARTUS to allow access. However,
Siv Dragr
was someone ARTUS would allow immediate access, no questions asked.