Gael bar Ammon
Pride of Old Mandalore
From a seed, growth erupted. It could be as little as a weed or as massive as a tree. Nonetheless, a seed was the foundation of every great idea, the beginning of every new beginning. And a seed had been planted in Gael's mind. Is he who he's known himself to be? Was he truly a Mandalorian, born to Clan bar Ammon? Or was everything he knew a carefully fabricated lie forged to resemble the truth?
Gael's journey would begin on Mandalore, home of the fiercest warriors known to the galaxy. His first stop was the Royal Academy of Government. Having previously taught there for some time, he already knew his way around the area and was still familiar with some of the faculty. He needed to access the system archives.
As he approached the steps of the academy though, he didn't feel nostalgia. He felt barricaded. What was once a fond experience now served to be a challenge. The stairs made the doors atop them look all the grander, except they didn't feel like doors. Doors could be opened by yourself with ease. These doors seemed more to resemble gates, keeping Gael out from unlocking whatever secrets may lie ahead.
Gael's journey would begin on Mandalore, home of the fiercest warriors known to the galaxy. His first stop was the Royal Academy of Government. Having previously taught there for some time, he already knew his way around the area and was still familiar with some of the faculty. He needed to access the system archives.
As he approached the steps of the academy though, he didn't feel nostalgia. He felt barricaded. What was once a fond experience now served to be a challenge. The stairs made the doors atop them look all the grander, except they didn't feel like doors. Doors could be opened by yourself with ease. These doors seemed more to resemble gates, keeping Gael out from unlocking whatever secrets may lie ahead.