Second star to the right [Mandalorian Reunion]

[Azrael]

Several Galactic Standard months had come and gone. Seasons on so many planets had obeyed the laws of their own natural biospheres. People had come and gone, in lands distant and close, and each circle of every solar axis had completed the journey with dozens of planets and moons like. Time had passed since a young Field Marshal from the great Mandalorian armada had drifted from home in search of one of the last fragments of a shattered past. Loose ends that still had nagged at the back of the half-blood's mind had needed attention. From the nearby planet of Phaeda to the outer reaches of the galaxy and into the uncharted depths of wild space, Azrael had traveled and traversed the stars. No communication or missive sent or received from Manda'yaim in the course of the months gone by -- at least none that he had gotten. The journey was meant to be solitary in nature, but hadn't been conceived that it's length would far exceed the Mandalorian's expectations.

Now, on the horizon of Mandalorian territory with a trajectory blazing through the hyperspace lanes - a single ship raced across the void of space heading home for a reunion long overdo. The weight of his past had always hung around his shoulders like a mantle that he carried in silence. Those feelings of his past now mixed with the trials he had gone through in this escapade he'd been through. Thought thoughts however were pushed aside, as the more necessary concern was getting his ship back in one piece to the shimmering jewel of the Mandalorian's culture.

Inside the cockpit of the Night Shadow, all was not quiet. The ship was low on fuel, high on heat, and not exactly in one shining piece. It was still flying though, or more precisely launched. Like a giant dart hurtling through space, he was not so much trying to steer it as he was trying to aim it. The rudders were about shot, several pieces of each stabilizer were entirely missing. The ship itself had a dozen jury-rigged parts holding it together. His ship had been through just about as much as he had been in this long absence, and only thanks to some high ingenuity, and salvaging experience was it able to break through and make this journey back to the heart of his people. Hyperdrive engines whined and waned as the turbulence from the hyperspace line jerked the ship back and forth. The course wasn't exactly plotted as guessed. Normally a smooth journey if you had the right coordinates. Much less than that if you were estimating them - which he was forced to do thanks to a very unhealthy relationship between the ship's navigational system and the power core.

"Shabla!" Azrael shouted as he gripped the yoke tightly. Trying to avoid the tearing and ripping effects of a half-arsed space lane shuttle towards Mandalore. Alarms rang in his ears as the cockpit glowed in bright red warning lights. "I know, I know!" Again the Mandalorian yelled as his controls that were warning him of things very critical to flight, trajectory and the ship wanting to blow up instead of hold together. He knew it wouldn't last much longer with such a jarring half-way lane, and he'd rather save his ship than try to navigate further through this maze. The problem with hyperspace travel though - is knowing when and where to exit - of which he didn't. "Fine...you want to play hardball, we'll play hardball." Azrael said through gritted teeth. Who exactly he was talking to was unsure, but most likely a non-sentient ship's computer. Taking a quick moment to slip on his helmet, the communication array within immediately booted up and locked onto his location. It wouldn't interface with the computer on board (he'd already tried that) but it would certainly call out for assistance.

:: Calling all vode. Inbound on unstable trajectory - coming in hot to Manda'yaim. If you've got my IFF, get me to ground before this hunk of metal decides to become scrap. ::

The call went out to Mandalorian's all around the area. It was not exactly the kind of greeting he wanted to give the vode on his return, but it was better to be alive and abrupt, than subtle and a floating set of armor in the black. A quick activation of thrust that he didn't think he could even spare coupled with the deactivation of his hyperdrive, shot his ship out from the hyper lane and into a minefield of a small asteroid field. Immediately he was jerking the yoke back and forth trying to avoid the obstacles in his path. A floating rock garden that seemed to be lying in wait to chew his ship up and leave little behind. The helmet was compensating for his eyes, trying to give him a clear shot, but his speed wasn't exactly decreasing either.

"Bic ni skana'din!" Azrael grumbled as he moved back and forth trying to dodge the space debris, slicing up various panels of his battle worn ship while trying to make a bee-line for the planet that was just coming into sight. He was hoping that part of the vode would respond in time and give him some direction or fleet assistance to make it to Manda'yaim in one piece.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Isley Verd"]​

 

[Kara Cabor]

:: Calling all vode. Inbound on unstable trajectory - coming in hot to Manda'yaim. If you've got my IFF, get me to ground before this hunk of metal decides to become scrap. ::

Well, somebody's having a great time out there. Kara thought, with no small amount of sarcasm. The guy was obviously having major issues with the ship- obvious statement is obvious - and Kara made a mental note to take a look at the scrap heap after he landed. One way or another.

"Okay, I know I the rookie here, but I gonna go ahead and just assume we're gonna help the guy." Kara spoke up, looking around as she listened to the call for aid. And if your famous loyalty gone kaput, at least so he don't put a new crater in the planet.

[member="Azrael"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

That voice...It was familiar. The ja'haliir stations had picked something up moving through hyperspace but they didn't say exactly what. His door burst open and suddenly all was clear. <Sir, its Azreal.> Gil's flask fell from his lips, the beskar tin clanging to the floor. <Get me a line with Rally Master Taliim.> Gil was standing out of his chair now, making his way to the starport. <Taliim, you do EVERYTHING in your power to get that Mando down!>

Up in space a couple fighters were launchered, screaming towards the black ship. Laser bolts streamed past in attempt to take out the ship's engines as a Dreadnought activated its tractor beam and lifted it over the asteroid field and into its hangar bay.
[member="Azrael"]

 

[Ordo]

LOCATION: COCKPIT FIGHTER 2
OBJECTIVE: DISABLE ENGINES
To: [member="Azrael"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Kara Cabor"]

<Gil I'm inbound to target, 20 seconds to intercept> Ordo reported.

The twin fighters tore their way through the infinite black on an intercept course with the tattered ship. Engines roared with a single minded determination as the Mandalorians raced time to try and save their vod from his...delicate situation. Within moments they thundered by the ship and looped around for their run at the engines. The fighters bore down on the ship and fired. The two Ace pilots quickly struck with the precision of surgeons preforming a delicate operation and the engines died.

<Engines down> Ordo announced as the dreadnought took hold of the ship with it's tractor beams, <moving to escort positions.>

Ordo and his wingman flew closely beside the ship as it was guided into the waiting embrace of the friendly hanger. Emergency personnel and droids rushed the ship to put out small fires and secure leaks. Ordo waited for the all clear before he and his wingman guided their fighters into the hanger. With a his his cockpit popped open and he climbed out to assist the emergency crews.

 

[Azrael]

By the time the twin fighters had gotten within proximity, the fuel reserves were just about depleted. Killing the engines left only inertia to propel the ship through space. The surgical strikes to slow his craft down had helped, but it was the jarring motion of the tractor beam and really put the brakes on the Ca'prudii. Jostled back and forth, Azrael grunted before he disengaged from the cockpit and moved through the hull of the ship. Various pieces of durasteel that had been rush welded were already coming apart at the seams. He could already hear the clatter of droids attaching themselves to his ship while they worked to put out the fires caused by tearing through the hyperlanes at such a hot-headed rate of speed.

The ship itself had seen better days. It was in shambles, and not just from physical wear and tear. The comm systems were down, navigation barely functioned, and there were a few leaks in the hyperdrive which had given him just enough power to get through from wherever in the black he had been. It was certainly in disrepair, and needed a lot of attention. Thankfully he was parking in the one place it could receive all the care it needed. Mandal Motors had everything a Mandalorian could want or dream for his personal ship. Circling slow, the ship entered the hangar and set down. Steam pouring from every open vent and wound as the fire were quenched. The engines had been killed and thus all the power in the ship had gone dark.

Night vision equipped within the helmet granting the salvager movement within the vessel. Grasping a corner of a durasteel plate with his bionic digits, Azrael wrenched it around to cover another unsightly hole in his ship's interior. Pushing off, he went to the cargo hold, which was equally in shambles. A gunny sack made of leather, and other animal pelts stitched together was drawn up tight and slung over his left shoulder. A heavy repeater strapped to his thigh and his old friend, the Mandalorian's BOAR.D rail gun went across his back. All of the emergency power had been routed to the cockpit's life support feature until he had put on the helmet. Now it was his armor that was keeping him alive inside a ship with no atmosphere and no power to speak of. Once he felt the ship cease to a stop and jostle slightly on the landing gear, he hit the exit ramp and let it slide out to grant him passage onto the docking floor of the Dreadnought.

Aside from his disdain of the ship's current condition, he was glad to have an escort that didn't involve a crash landing on Manda'yaim. Manda knows they didn't need another crater. Shifting his posture as his armored form moved across the platform and towards one of the two fighters that had given him safe escort. He recognized the colors and the ship immediately. A hidden smile behind the buy'ce registered as he set the sack down and strode over to clasp arms with the larger Mandalorian. One of the very first of his vode that he'd met when joining the family, and a field marshal like himself.

"Su cuy'gar ner'vod!" The greeting came as he moved to clasp his armored right hand across the wrist of Ordo's and clasp in a warm greeting. He hadn't seen the large former farmer in sometime, or any Mandalorian for that matter. He was pleased to see a familiar face after all these months. No doubt there would be questions, but Azrael was very much focused on the here and now. There was plenty of time to catch everyone up on what he had been doing, but at least he was home (or nearly there). The Dreadnought was nice, but it was pale comparison to Manda'yaim. He was still looking to find solid purchase on the soil of the planet soon enough.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Isley Verd"]​

 

[Logan]

Jedediah was one of those men assigned to the emergency crew during his stay on Manda'yaim. A quite lucky and chance series of events and encounters had gotten him all the way from his post serving with the Army of Light to here. Breathing a heavy sigh as he and his crews dashed forward to put out fires and scour for malfunctions, Jed was one of the more medically trained personnel of the bunch. Having served in more than enough battles and experiences in patching himself and his boys up had turned the man into a virtual combat medic. Holding back to allow the rest of the crews to complete their tasks, he strode to the side to eye the large Mandalorian exiting his fighter to cross the landing pad and greet the pilot that called for help.

Seeing this as an opportunity to stride forward, adorned in his Red Legionnaire armor (minus the helmet), and greet the pair. "Su'cuy." He nodded to the both of them. "Hurtin' anywhere, vod?"

[member="Ordo"] [member="Azrael"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The Lazy Strill flew towards the dreadnought, its engines pushing it through space with urgency. The old man within the metal starship cursed under his breath as his engine's warning bells started to ring. He didn't care.

The small freighter slowed as it neared the ship's hangar bay and deployed its landing gear. Passing through the barrier between life and the endless expanse of space, the ship's engines roared, filling the room with the deep hum of its modified engines, the Lazy Strill settled down on the cold metal of the ship's hangar. With a hiss the loading bay door lowered, and Gilamar exited, clad full in his dull, black armor. Taking his own helmet off and cliping it to his belt, a big grin inched its way across his face.

"Azrael!! Su cuy'gar ner'vod" Clanking over the ship's floor he clasped his hand on his shoulder and nodded to Ordo. <Thank you for being so quick with your fighters Ordo.>
@Azrael [member="Ordo"]

 

[Azrael]

Despite the reputation of the Mandalorians being an intimidating sight throughout the Galaxy, Azrael wasn't as large as the men surrounding him. Just a little below an average height, but still well built. Even clad in his custom beskar'gam, he was just scratching the surface of a six foot figure. The broadband antenna at full extension could of taken up the slack and put him over the height marker. That had never been a hindrance before though. The Night Shadow was in disrepair, but at least it was safe here in the MandalMotors floating ship-yard. They had some of the best mechanics in the Galaxy here near Manda'yaim, not to mention the fact that he himself was a salvagar. No doubt it was the skills he possessed from working for years on Ord Mantell that allowed him to even get the bird this close to home.

The welcome wagon was coming though, and he was hearing the buzz and chatter as soon as he stepped off the ramp onto the floor. A transport was incoming with Manda'lor on board. He'd been gone for so long, he wasn't even aware that his friend and mentor -- the man who helped him craft his current armor had risen to replace that of Verz Horak. There was so much he had missed on the homefront, but at least he was home. Both hands rose to unclasp his helmet and secure it to his hip as a pair of slate grey eyes shifted to Jedediah. An appraising look was offered before he gave a curt and respectful nod towards the initiate.

"Nass ner'vod." Azrael said, nothing to report of any injuries that were urgent at the time. "Treat 'er well vod, she's been a good sport getting here." He mentioned thumbing his bionic digit in the direction of his ship. She was a special prize he'd been awarded in the battle against the Dark Harvesters over a year prior. Attentions shifted as several of the Mando'ade addressed the large black armored Mandalorian exiting the Lazy Strill as their sole ruler. Brows furrowed a bit in curiosity as he recognized Gilamar striding over to him. "K'oyacyi ner ori'vod!" The half-blood exclaimed clasping his right hand to Gil's in a firm wrist shake. "A'lor now? Oya vod!" He wasn't surprised that Gilamar was the chosen successor, but he was curious as to what happened to the man who trained him to fight and think in the thick of battle.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Preliat Mantis"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Jedediah Bagely"]

 

[Ordo]

[member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Azrael"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Jedediah Bagely"]

Ordo had clasped the Man's forearm. It had been too long since the two men had met and there would be much to catch up on. Ordo's black armour had changed little, other than the small orange rank and clan symbols. His eye looked at the vod he had given a ride to Mandalore to and faoght beside on Elrood. The sounds of the emergency crews were in the background. Droids whipped about while men and women in various armours tended to the ship.

"I see your flying hasn't changed much." Ordo joked as Gil came in and thanked him. <no worries Gil.>

 

[Kara Cabor]

Kara felt very conspicuously out of place in the whole reunion. She was new and didn't know any of them - save for Ordo, and she knew of Gilamar, but never actually had a full-on conversation with the man. She shifted uncomfortably, totally oblivious of how much like Kila Cadau she looked in her newly-painted (durasteel) armor. Granted, the armor wasn't full-body like the late Mandalorians had been, but with Kila's helmet on, the resemblance was there.

[member="Ordo"] [member="Azrael"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He laughed heartily and gripped the young man's wrist. <Aye, its been a crazy few months vod.> The old man's eyes sparkled as he lookd the man whom held Gilamar's favor in the Skirata clan up and down. He still couldn't believe that he was here and in one piece. Turning to look behind him, he jabbed at the wrecked ship with his thumb, <That the Night Shadow? Looks like you ran straight through the Maw!> he joked. Shaking his head, he let the grip go and clasped both hands on Azrael's shoulders. <It's very good to see you ad.> Right then, nothing could keep the grin off the old man's face.

He noticed that people were begining to stare, as if waiting for something to happen. <Go, go! Fix up that ship! Ordo, you off duty?>
@Ordo @Azrael

 

[Matreya]

From nearby, a silhouette stood above the others, hidden from sight in the rafters. He had been on the way to aid the ship, but was overwhelmed when it came to speed, for the first time in so long. Remaining on an adjacent structure, Damien called out into the Force and with his control of mentalism, took the minds of many nearby and had them erase the events and group from the senses. Thus, the event was more or less contained.

<Ordo, do we know this man? He bears Mandalorian armor and the like...> Damien hailed to the Master he knew among the group. Of course he knew the rest save the newcomer, but whether they knew he was up for grabs.

Slowly the entirety of the people surrounding the group were gone, leaving them in peace to reunite, and then the man hopped over the edge to plummet to the metals below. Walking closer, D kept his silence after he neared, not intending to interrupt.

(Thank you Gil for handling that missreading so lightly. Coulda been way more 'way to go idiot' about it lol.)


[member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Ordo"]

 

[Azrael]

The hangar bay of the Dreadnought was filling up quickly with more and more Mando'ade. Some he recognized, and others were new faces or helmets to greet him. It was good to be back among the culture, the language, and most of all the people. Even when Azrael was unsure of who he was seeing, he knew he was among the vode -- among family. His first steps on Mand'yaim over a year ago had allowed then initiate into the ranks a glimpse at a life he had always wanted. A life where he belonged. Azrael was an orphan who'd been adopted by the Manda, and he was every grateful. His grin was returned to both Ordo and Gilamar at the mention of his ship. It had been a very rough ride, not to mention the damage the Night Shadow had endured on his trek around the Galaxy. She was still flying, but just barely, and it would take some work to get her space worthy again.

"A few months out in the black with a price on your head will do that, but she's true to the Manda - never gave up once. Proud of her." Ordo had taught him that, taught him what a ship meant, and how it should be treated. When you gave that much care and attention to a ship, when you bonded with it, it would take care of you as well. A smirk touched his face as he gave a nod to Gil in respect. "Seems I have missed a lot A'lor. I'll need a hefty din'kartay soon." And speaking of catching up, Azrael began to shift his gaze. Grey eyes traveled from person to person of the vode that was gathering. His gaze paused as a single helmet stood out to him. He knew the helmet well. Kila Cadau - the first Mandalorian he had ever met. She had saved his life, and was one of the two main reasons he had come to Mandalore in the first place. Ordo was a close second, having shut down the remainder of the tussle that had broken out in that bar. Something was wrong though. The helmet was hers, but everything else was not. The figure, and the armor. It wasn't the beskar'gam of his vod, it was Durasteel. Azrael's brows furrowed as he took a step forward.

"Who are you?" He asked, not in anger, but in confusion coupled with a lump of dread in his throat. He wasn't exactly asking Kara, but moreso the entire lot around him. Another step was taken as he looked over the armor and then turned with a worried expression to Ordo and Gilamar. Who was wearing the mantle of Kila, and where was Cadau? These questions and more haunted his mind and caused him to completely miss the introduction of another that had leapt over a railing. New faces aside, this was one mystery he'd like information on right then and there. The Field Marshal paused in his stride, studying the armor, the helmet, and trying to remember if he had heard anything about Kila in his time away.

[member="D-Man"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Jedediah Bagely"]​

 

[Matreya]

For once, his armor screaming 'SITH' didnt stop a fellow Mandoa. This man he could appreciate. Watching from the back of the group, he shifted into the shadows of others when the mans gaze traveled. Surprisingly, not to truly hide, but to give a member of his 'family' their due respect. They would meet in time.

But there was one thing he did, off the radar of course. He, tentatively, reached out to attempt to scan the newcomers mind. Others whom saw a recognizable face would instantly jump to greet, but an unaware mind would scrutinize and calculate. Was the man whom he said he was? What were his motives? Were there possibilities of hostilities? Though as said, the scan would be bare minimum. Name, was the man intending danger on anyone. Basic things that could be read along the surface without breaking it.

 

[Kara Cabor]

Kara shuffled uneasily. <I'm Kara.> She introduced herself, rather lamely, with some hesitation. Okay, the Mando'a needs some work. I'm new, brain, shut up. She guessed at the man's next question, but she really didn't want to answer it. And she was really hoping it wouldn't come up, although it probably would.

[member="Azrael"] [member="D-Man"] [member="[/FONT]Gilamar Skirata"] [member="[/FONT]Ordo"] [member="[/FONT]Jedediah Bagely"]

 

[Ordo]

[member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Azrael"] [member="D-Man"]

Ordo gave a nod to the new comer who had given up on the Sith to join the vode. He set a heavy hand on Kara's shoulder and looked at her with his best buir smile.

"Azrael ner vod, Kila is marching another field now." He said sadly, "Kara here was the tried to save her and works for me at MandalTech now."

Ordo took his hand off the girl's shoulder and looked over at the ship to avoid ahowing to much of his watery eyes. Kila was a good friend and had been his commander a long time ago. He remembered her in his list of names every morning along with many others.

The ship looked like it had been stabilized and no leaks were visable. It was a great ship and it looked like Azrael had shown it every bit of care it deserved. He kept his eyes away a minute then looked back to the vode.

"Now tell us what you've been up to." Ordo said at last.

 

[Azrael]

Death was a different concept to the vode. It was not so much feared as it was for others. The idea of dying in battle was always a possibility, and in death there was much honor. The vode saluted their brothers and sisters who marched into the light of the Manda. Still they were touched and moved with emotions, sometimes more palpable than others in the galaxy when they learned of of their passing. Azrael was no exception to the rule as he heard the words fall from Ordo's lips about his sister who had ceased to walk anymore in this realm. It was painful to think of, but he was also honored to know her, and honored to be a part of her life. She had taught him much, and been a friend when he didn't have anyone else in his life. Kila had found Azrael alone, and in need of a family when everything he had in life was gone. He would miss her.

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la." Azrael said with his head bowed slightly. "Mando'ad draar digu, Cadau." Repeated softly after as a reminder that he would never forget her memory, or forget to honor her life. Raising his head, a bit of a glistening in his grey eyes was evident as he moved forward and gave a friendly smile of a greeting. "If that spitfire entrusted you with that buy'ce, than you must be mandokarla. Oya vod." Azrael placed his hand out to shake Kara's. He could tell she was nervous even with the armor on hiding her face. Faces weren't much in Mandalorian culture - their actions and character spoke from their armor. He didn't need to see her to respect her, and Kila's trust was more than enough reason for that. It was a pleasure to meet a new recruit, and to remember a sister's memory in the reflection of that recruit as well. A double blessing. It was indeed good to be home.

"Long story Ori'vod. Couple of years before we met." He offered Ordo. He knew soon they'd be sharing a buy'ce gal in one of Manda'yaim's many pubs in catching up. He'd fill him and Gil in later on what he'd been through, and why he hadn't been able to be around Mandalore - despite him wanting to. A glance behind the rest shifting to that of a uniquely armored vod, with markings and traits that seemed to indicate it wasn't originally fashioned for the purposes their armor was made for. Azrael hadn't encountered too many users of the Force in his time serving with the Mando'ade. He'd seen things, strange things - but never face to face with the practioners save for a handful of times. "Olarom vod." He offered in respect of a nod before he lifted the gunny sack with his bionic arm and rested it over the crux of his shoulder. "I'm itching to get my feet on that sod A'lor. Been homesick. How long till we make port?" Azrael offered to Gil, awaiting the Dreadnought to touch down and let him out into the open air of a planet he had come to call home.

[member="D-Man"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Ordo"] [member="Jedediah Bagely"]​

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Gilamar's head hung low for a moment as he respected Kila's memory. He had heard of her death but had been off world and had not been able to grieve with his brothers and sisters so this new vod was well...New to him. He nodded in agreement to Azrael's words on Kila, "Indeed." He gave a quick smile to the young woman before turning to Azrael to hear his request.

<Well, we could just take my freighter down.> he offered. <I'm out of drink and there's to be a Meshgeroya game in a few. Come on, let's get movin'!> He looked over to [member="Ordo"] and nodded in appreciation yet again for saving the man he thought of as a son. Looking over to the crew working on the quick emergency patch work to keep the Night Shadow from falling apart, his eyes narrowd before he grinned and slapped a hand on the armor of Azrael.

<Make sure to get that thing to the shipyards in one piece!> he shouted over the noise of the bustling hangar.
@[member="Azrael"] @[member="Kara Cabor"] [member="D-Man"]

 

[Ordo]

[member="D-Man"] [member="Kara Cabor"] [member="Azrael"] [member="Gilamar Skirata"]

Ordo missed His young friend Kila but little could be asked for other than an honorable death and the young woman Kara had been given a new chance at a better life as a result. The Manda did things the way it saw fit and if you looked closely you could see the conecting lines in events. If Kila had not have died Kara may have never found the vode. The barrel chested Mando that was Ordo felt that bitter sweet moment that was aay'han.

The tracks of droids over druacrete, the sounds of repulsor lifts and the heavy foot falls of load lifter droids and combined to create a musical din that was strangely calming to the scarred Field Marshall. The Kandosii-type Dreadnought angled as it went and turned toward Manda'yaim, but all Ordo could think of was his fellow Field Marshall had been guided back by the Manda.

The smell of fuel and coolant snapped him out of his silent musings and he looked at Azrael and the gathered Vode.

"I need a drink and something to eat." He said finally, "lets get Azrael dirtside and to the Oyu'baat where he belongs."

 

[Matreya]

When he was acknowledged, Damien smiled and reached out to shake the mans hand, removing his helm with his opposite hand. His eyes glowed slightly in the shadows cast by the group, dark and acidic, yet far less then had been when he was fully aligned with the Sith. His days as a Manda had changed him.

After releasing his grip, Damien stepped behind Azrael and followed them as they walked. He felt like he fought beside the man, after getting close, and decided it was likely back when he first came to these people. During his time hiding away from the galaxies.

Who knew a being so oriented about his Master, would one day leave him for a family?