Saga of Valour
Death Watch Skald
To suffer a defeat was to endure one of the most bittersweet tastes in the known universe. The result of a conflict, no matter the odds, is never predetermined. So, to fight with every fibre of one’s being - only to be denied that glorious undulation brought about by victory? Some with weaker constitutions would find themselves succumbing to despair. They would turn to drink or some other vice to drown themselves in the moment. Yet, all that would come from their deeds is more despair and compounded failure. It was a sensation that once embraced, lingered on far longer than it was welcomed. But, to those with the mental fortitude and constitution to walk the Path of the Warrior, the defeat suffered could easily be turned into a lesson.
So long as they survived the encounter, a Warrior could learn from their failures more than they ever could through their victories. These militant souls would come to understand what tactics, strategies and weapons worked against their foes and how to better kill their enemies to end the hostility between their peoples. Such aspects of knowledge and truthful insight would be tainted by the laurels of victory. Many would become blinded by their own arrogance and hubris to see the coming of their end until it was too late. It was said that the recent iteration of the Mandalorian Empire suffered such a fate when it collapsed. That those on top believed themselves to be mighty and refused to accept their defeat as a lesson.
And so, the Empire fell, as it had before, as the rest of the Galaxy descended on them with red-stained eyes. Instead of embracing their failures and fighting back - the Mandalorian people vanished into the shadows to live another day. But, some refused to accept the fate others had given them. With blades in hand, these noble warriors lashed out at those who sought to orchestrate their Empire’s failure. They learned from the mistakes of others and swore to never repeat them. Thus, in the shadows of towering giants, their deeds began to spread. Some found themselves latching onto their destroyers, hoping to suckle upon their teat for a taste of the glory denied to them. Whilst others propagated the failures of the past, expecting the outcome to change.
Those that walked the Path of the Warrior refused to give in to such fallacies. They were too proud to grovel before their enemies in the hopes of reclaiming their squandered legacy. Such was an act of weakness, for those fighters willingly placed the fate of themselves and their comrades in the hands of others. They denied themselves the dignity of self-determination, which flew in the face of the Canons of Honour. That was something those old enough to remember their origins couldn’t allow. Thus, the seeds of remembrance were sown amongst the youthful and vigorous. The stories of yore would inspire generations of disgruntled Mandalorians to come and guide them towards a future of their own making - rather than one determined by the capricious whims of others.
And so, the foundations were set. The Death Watch would return once more in the Mandalorian’s darkest hour and seek to lead them into the uncertainties of the future - with blades and blasters in hand. They would not go quietly into the night, but if they were to die - then it would be in a way that they would be remembered for all time.
Outer Rim Territories // Galactic North // Deep Space.
Aboard the Lictor-class Dungeon Ship; "Purgatory."
~ Stolen from Dantooine in the aftermath of the recent Battle.
Aboard the Lictor-class Dungeon Ship; "Purgatory."
~ Stolen from Dantooine in the aftermath of the recent Battle.
The Battle of Dantooine was one for the ages. While the outcome would ultimately result in a defeat for the New Imperial Order, there would be some amongst their number that counted the engagement as a victory. As the Sith Empire and the might of their allies reaffirmed their claim over the agricultural world, a portion of the Sons of Mandalore found themselves surrounded by what remained Clan Vizsla’s holdings. Although the House itself was scattered and fractured, some of their designs and caches remained behind. These Sons of Mandalore quickly gathered what they could and stowed their newly earned riches aboard one of their purloined starships. It was a vast treasure hoard that would offer those wayward Mandalorian Crusaders the chance they needed to forge their own destiny.
Thus, from the ashes of defeat, the Scions of the Death Watch would be reborn anew. These former Sons and Daughters of Mandalore would have all that they needed to strike out independently. Save the flesh needed to pilot and operate their newly acquired war material. So, these Mandalorians would turn to what remained of their Clans and Houses - seeking to recruit their like-minded comrades to the cause. Some would refuse the call out of fear of reprisal and the inevitable extinction of their collective culture. Others would be duty or oath-bound to another’s cause and unable to swear themselves to the Crusade. Yet, some believed in the potential of a reformed Death Watch.
These Warriors were weaned upon the stories of yore, passed down from one generation to the next, that regaled their youthful ears of the heroism that the Death Watch embodied. While others would proclaim them as radicals and terrorists, the Children of the Watch were devout patriots that nobly strode into battle against impossible odds. They fought to redeem the Mandalorian people in the eyes of history and secure their collective people’s future in the face of uncertainty. With their passions reignited, the ranks of the Death Watch began to grow with every passing day. It was a trickle at first, where one or two wayward souls adorned their armour in the Watch’s colours and the Sigils of the ancient Neo-Crusaders.
But, as the days began to turn into weeks, more had come.
As the dawning of another day arrived, those who heard the Death Watch’s call assembled on the hangar deck of the pilfered vessel. It was a proverbial sea of armoured bodies who adorned themselves in a kaleidoscope of colours. Some wore their Clan or house’s iconography with pride, whilst others eschewed their past lives to decorate themselves in the Watch’s colours. Like the enamel that coated their war-plate, the reasons for their appearance here were as vast and varied as the stars themselves. There was a modicum of vested interest shared by all those that gathered here today, and soon - they would all be united in cause and purpose.
Before the throng of armoured warriors sat one of the newly acquired fighters from Dantooine. Its surface was freshly coated in the Watch’s colours and inscribed with the Sigil of the ancient Neo-Crusaders, a stylized skull encircled by a halo of thorns. The armour plating glistened in the overhanging light but swiftly dulled as a figure in golden yellow armour vaulted onto the improvised platform. Some amongst the throng turned to acknowledge this figure, while others chatted amongst themselves - unaware of the figure’s presence. When they made themselves known by drawing in their attention, this golden figure greeted them warmly.
“Brothers, Sisters, Sons and Daughters. Today is a day of days.” this figure began, gesturing to the crowd before them with arms swept wide. “No more shall we bow before giants, seeking what glories they offer. No more shall we cower in our hovels as the Sith parade their laurels reaped from the atrocities inflicted upon our people. Our blood cries out for vengeance, and we shall not deny it’s song! For we are Mandalorians! Children of the Watch! And inheritors of a Legacy that once brought the Galaxy to it’s very knees!”
The golden figure’s words seemed to resonate with those that adorned themselves with the Watch’s colours. For, they knew who this figure was. He was a Field Marshal within their simplistic hierarchy and a hero to some. But, most of all, this figure was an unparalleled warrior who reddened the earth with the blood of their enemies. His name was unimportant, but their deeds - alongside those of the Spawnslayer - would echo throughout eternity.
“What was, will be again, my kindred. We were laid low by division and once more by the daggers of betrayal. But those who hold true to the ways of the Mandalore never forget. Every wrong that was committed against our people shall be righted. The Sith shall pay! The Empire shall crumble! Blood begets blood!”
“FOR THE WATCH!”
It was with those very words that the Death Watch would be officially reformed. And those that answered the call would embark upon a Crusade that would - one day - engulf the Galaxy in a storm of vengeance that would be immortalized in the sagas of their collective peoples.
