The Post-Freedom "A'den" -dum

[Darlyn Excron]

"Literal space magic? Usually pretty good at killing things. That or my fists, also pretty good at killing things. 'Specially if you get a hold of the throat, real easy to kill someone at that point." He gave [member="Yasha Cadera"] a shrug as though he didn't really know what else to say. Judging by the conversation, what little he really picked up and paid attention to between refocusing his pain-ignoring efforts (The heat was actually making some more difficult to handle, believe it or not), she knew all about killing with or without a weapon. Then again, he also assumed that she understood 'armed' was a relative term at best, some people were always armed.

He couldn't help a smirk at the 'two at a time' comment. Space magic, he didn't mention how he could probably learn to fire far more than eight guns at once if he honestly, earnestly tried, but he kept his mouth shut for now. Instead he offered a shrug, and the halfhearted comment of, "Some are for, specific situations. Such as helping against Force users like me, mostly that actually. Slug throwers those are, useful little buggers." As always he trailed off into his own thoughts, even mid sentence, considering the advice given even as he retorted. Of course he saw wisdom in limiting the blasters he carried, he might actually listen to that bit of advice. But the slug throwers had their own purpose, a specific set of uses. Maybe he'd listen.

Maybe he'd buy more guns anyways. Alright that one was basically a 'death or taxes' situation but still. Maybe.

Regardless, he was brought back to the moment as Yasha motioned for him to leave with her out of the forge. He managed to catch her words about doing right by Commenor, to which he gave a small hum, thinking what he'd say through even as he started to speak. "I can't say we're in a position to say much, aside thank you and hope it all turns out fine. As long as it's not just this one time gesture of goodwill, I'm confident you'll do right just fine." The pain in his abdominal area, right around that 'worst wound' flared up a bit awkwardly. So, he gave his hand a small electrical charge and pressed it to his thigh, igniting more pain but distracting his mind for a time.

He coughed again, covering his mouth with the back of his other hand. This time there wasn't really a doubt to him something had opened up, and he'd probably have to get a check up again. Probably one of those awkward diaper stays in bacta or something if he was really unlucky.. "I suppose this is where I ask when I get to hunt these sith alchemists down? Like I said, third favorite thing to do with my time."

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“My personal favourite is biting the jugular. It usually quiets the rest to give others the chance to pick them off.” Yasha said without hint of irony. The woman was as much a killer as her regnal name suggested, an infernally minded warrior in battle, with whom all bets were off.

“Okay, so some slugthrowers and blaster pistol spaces. Got it. You’ll need ammo belts then. I’ll work it in. Now SHOO! Last warning or I’ll tan your pasty hides!” [member="Ginnie Dib"] flung her hand aside, banishing Yasha and [member="Darlyn Excron"] from the forge. For a while, Yasha walked in silence.

Commenor weighted on her soul, a black mark on the friendship she’d received. All she had now was the chance to help them rebuild… with what little time they all had left.

“I wasn’t able to stop Carnifex from harming your people, Minister Excron. Halting the destruction to one city was all I could do, much to my shame.” Yasha’s throat worked, her face contorting in pain. “… I’d never felt fear, before that. Never understood why so many spoke so harshly of the dar’jetiise. Being dead to the Force all I knew was that Darth Carnifex followed my career since childhood, he offered advice, aide, a listening ear and fatherly gaze, when mine were… gone. Anything I’d asked of him previous to Commenor, he’d given without restraint, and when [member="Lady Kay"] told me of the blockade… oh, I thought I could ask once more of the Dark Lord. That he would give me the desires of my heart. Surely…”

Yasha stopped and leaned against a rail overlooking a vast viewport, from which Commenor with all its wounds, could be seen. “Surely he would not take from my Aunt’s people. Surely he would not start such a war… Any Jetiise I’d ever met have tried to kill me on sight since I was six years old, Darlyn. I’ve only ever known words like Jedi, Republic, Light Side to mean death. They were the genocidal murderers of Roche. The banes fought at Kashyyk. The horrors, who took credit for destroying our home world and my mother and brother with it. How could it be, I wondered, that Carnifex would turn a deaf ear? He, who in his patience withheld justice for his own son’s murder in my hall? He, who after multiple attacks from my People, continuously turned the other cheek? How could the man who rescued my daughter from harm through a whisper across a galaxy, who wished me to marry his line deny so small a thing? Such a small request.”

Voice clouded with her recovering throat, hoarse and stricken, Yasha shook her head.

“How could he allow this?”

The formative moment in Yasha Cadera’s life, was not the betrayal of parents, or death of her family. It was neither the meeting of lovers, or the births of her children Adara and Reyn. It was staring into the eyes of the Dark Lord, and realizing absolutely that nothing she could say or do would shift his lethal intent. The powerlessness of that moment lingered in her spine. Settled in the heels of her feet like spurs to keep her moving.

“I… challenged him on Er’kit. Demanded the return of slaves, to which he agreed, then proclaimed that… that if he did not leave Commenori space, I would declare war. He asked me if killing millions of the Mando’ade left was a worthy wage for someone else’s battle.” There was Munto City, the glasslands in their dull silence visible from space. Yasha’s eyes shut and she sighed. “I broke his face, and he broke mine. I ran after him to Dromund Kaas… invited to learn of my heritage one last, fateful time… ever the patient teacher, Kaine Zambrano...”

The wounds still healing on the Infernal’s face came all the clearer now, as she leaned on the rail and looked to Darlyn.

“… and we pitched into battle beneath Kaas City. Fought in ruins, fought ourselves, our Ymir enemies and each other. For what my time left is worth, before he comes to end us, in the end I fought for Commenor and Mandalore’s independence in those hidden, Dark Side ruins. The Ithorians gave my soul back to me, opened my mind to the very Force, which I was deadened to since childhood. I gave gladly of my soul to defeat what I could… yet it wasn’t enough.

So yes, Minister Excron, I will continue to provide aide as often as possible, until the day the Behemoth’s shadow lingers like a cancer on our space, and there are no more of us left to aide, and fight.”

How could Yasha face her Aunt? How could she gain that trust back? She could but give and serve. Her life belonged to the Mando’ade, and she would live it as long as they desired.

“How soon can you be made ready? I can take you at any time, but assume you would prepare.”

 

[Darlyn Excron]

"Six." Darlyn didn't really say much else for a little bit, paying close attention to the story shared by [member="Yasha Cadera"] as he considered the facts. Six years old, hunted by Jedi. Six years old, Darlyn had been alone. It was an eerily similar situation, especially as she recounted the, 'fatherly' nature that the man had taken up to her when she was alone, at her weakest. Stories would come to an end, and finally he would speak back to her. She was so kind as to give a story, it would be downright rude at this point to lack reciprocity. "Sith are manipulators. Some cunning, some deceitful, but none are the good guys. Not as we imagine good to be. You made a mistake in trusting one, but I'm not in a position to judge too harshy. When I was eight, I think, I was taken in by a Sith. He kept me alive, gave me tools, basic training, and taught me to kill. The only difference is he didn't bother hide the reality of it, I was a tool."

"So I was a good one, made sure not to fail at the one thing I was told to do. Hunt and kill. But you learned what I did, that a tool that fails has no purpose to Sith." Finally the light would rest in such a way that Yasha would be able to see the old, faded scars on Darlyn's neck. If she paid a modicum of attention she could likely realize them to be shrapnel wounds from a frag grenade, or similar explosion. A lucky wound to survive. "And whatever doesn't suit them, they have killed, destroyed. So I left, hid away. You learn a lot on the streets about that kind of thing, paid off. Started taking bounties, hunting people I thought wouldn't be missed. Usually criminals, bit better payouts and less complicated with authorities. Truth be told, had I not come here out of debt to Kay I would probably be sleeping on the street somewhere right now." He gave a half hearted chuckle, just a single 'heh'.

"Jedi aren't much better, self righteous hypocrites at times and often lacking in nuance. But some are good, genuinely. Even if they failed to protect a young boy from the one thing they ought to. But, the point is that this 'dark lord' is merely a loud example of the Sith's genuine nature. At least now you know, right?"

He pushed himself away from the light and railing when she finally asked him about preparations. He cleared his throat as if to disguise that the conversation before had even happened, before speaking in a more jovial tone. "Well I'd need time to pick out the proper pistols and find my favorite mid-fight whisky, so perhaps a day at most?"

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Weaponized as a kid, eh? I hear you. Sucks, but that’s how we survived. He was so kind… I hadn’t had much kindness in my life before him. Guess [member="Gray Raxis"] proved that kindness isn’t a myth, and that’s how I met [member="Lady Kay"]. At least now I know.” Yasha shared a knowing glance to the scars and the thoughts plaguing [member="Darlyn Excron"].

“I think… the worst part of it is knowing he’s not finished with me, yet. I can feel it in the back of my head, if I stop and listen. Feel him. He’s still there in the background, waiting for his chance to steal me away, to take what he actually wants, which, truthfully is my daughter. The Jetiise and I have a… complicated and deadly history.” Yasha shook her head and chuckled darkly, “Who doesn’t with the Mandalorians, I know, I know… but…”

Pressing her lips together, Yasha sighed roughly and rubbed at her still-flat belly. “I know with every fibre of me that he’s not done.”

The conversation turned, a modicum of levity in the repressed terror of their mutual lives.

“A day, then. Come back to my ship in a day, and we’ll go earn you your armour. That should give Ginnie the time to finish it.”