Zandra Ruus
Beskar Brawler
Kestri, a planet that had seen war for longer than anyone could remember, was finally at some semblance of peace. This was little solace for those that called the icy world home, for their was an eternal vigil. Just because Kestri was safe now, didn't mean new enemies would come. Zandra was going to make sure that no enemies stepped foot on her new home without spilling their own blood in return! Her zeal was not cooled by the icy surroundings, her unspent fury would keep that fire kindled.
In the time since the dissolution of the Neo-Crusaders, she had risen through the ranks of Kestri's defenders, The Iron Covenant. They were the closest thing to a family she had left, a group of warrior clans joining together to protect what little they had left. They were no weakened stragglers however, they were still proud warriors all, and they brought that might to the stars as needed!
Now though it was time to focus on the home front, a place where any Mandalorian who said the oath could come to rest, rest that was sorely needed for some. Long hours of operation meant that most of Zandra's comrades were ready for a long furlough, time where the marching of boots could leave their mind. Even if she had an axe to grind with the galaxy, the health of her troops would come first, always.
"Alright everyone, gather round the fire. No sense in freezing while we rest our feet," Zandra said, taking a spot on the ground around the rather fantastic pyre they had built. It was a tradition of the forces of Kestri to build such pyres, a way to harken back to the old times, times before they relied on blasters and explosives.
Even as her body warmed beside the fire, she scanned the horizon, unsure of what she might see. There was not much to truly see, only hills and snow for as far as anyone could tell. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to actually relax this time? Placing her forearms upon her knees, Zandra let the tension slowly slack from her body, her guard lowering as her squad mates swapped stories back and to.
They were all her age or older, so they had the better stories, in her mind at least. Telling stories of petty theft and survival in the gutter didn't seem as interesting as tales of war and daring escapades. These were real soldiers, not punks that came from the slums, they had such exciting lives before. Was she really worthy of commanding them? Her mind drifted, unaware that there camp was being intruded upon just behind her.
Someone was coming to the Storyfire...
Hilal Vizsla