The following tale is set within the time of the Mandalorian Wars.
It follows the lives of multiple characters within this time of transition.
This is an original tale, based upon a fictional world.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1- Vade
For the first time in memory, of anyone on that field, Vade Desertdown was losing ground, and at an apocalyptic rate. The Mandalorians rained from the sky, plunging down to the inferno fields of the burning world, one with their Basilisk war droids. Even to the current day, Vade had not learned the name of which that world was called. Only 'the first to burn' entered his mind when he thought on the chaos that transpired upon the surface of the forgotten world. Himself and a small army where transported through an old smugglers route to the surface of a unimportant world in an Outer-Rim sector most probably haven't heard of. Vade sure didn't when he had taken the assignment. He'd seen it as a bit of a holiday from the sight of Mandalorian blood on the tip of a vibroblade.
They were dispatched to defend a small mining colony. A colony that the war driven enemy would only reach through seven heavily defended worlds within the sector. The only thing the soldiers didn't count upon was a large bag of credits. Or maybe a stun baton half way down the slimy Hrakian smuggler's throat. Oh how Vade wished they had killed him after he had told them of the backdoor smugglers route to the small world on which they were stationed. This had occurred back in a time during the Mandalorian wars when the Exchange had still cared for some of the colonies it had men stationed on.
Vade had signed on with the Exchange three years prior to that battle. The position had been offered to him after he had won the highly acclaimed swoop race on Taris; and performed some other notable deeds within the underground gangs of the planet. His only goal was the Exchange of course, so many would kill to prove themselves fit for his job, and that was exactly as he had done.
Only after his fourth battle within the small army he had been assigned to he had earned himself the place of commander. Commander Desertdown, he'd always liked the ring to the title. The day it was bestowed to him was a chaotic one to say the least. Much like his day upon the 'first to burn' he was in the process of recalling. His current commander at the time was a fool of an old man by nature. He had ordered a full retreat of their forces from pirates from a neighboring sector. At this time Vade had spied a very obvious and easily exploitable flaw within their enemy's tactics. When he brought this news to his current commander, the man was either too craven or obsessed with pride to accept any question to his views on the situation. Vade knew what would happen to men in his line of work whom could not get this simple job done, and he had no wish to visit a weekend torturer. He turned, he ran, he held his vibroblade high above his head. Some lust for battle had deemed he act, he left his commander in his stead, half expecting an early grave. However that wasn't his destiny that day. Everyman, every human like himself, every Iridonian, every Twi'lek. Every race followed him against their enemy, and fate decided they would emerge victorious.
Following the battle they were confronted with a speech delivered by the leader of the exchange at the present time. Sosofu Corvus was a hard woman, and one of the very few to run ever run the Exchange. She also delivered a severed head, that of their previous commander, for his cowardice, and the terrible smell of his breath. To be honest, Vade couldn't tell which one was enough for her to want him short a head. Vade had never learned what had happened to Sosofu, then again, he didn't care all that much either. After her impressive display of how to effectively use a knife she had told the troops to decide upon the new commander amongst themselves. After his lead during the battle, Vade's vote received no opposition. A young man and a commander of one of the Exchange's private armies. Easily, one of the proudest achievements found within his life.
He could very well have spent all night recalling that day to mind, however at the time, he was still regaling his story on the 'first to burn'.He lied in his bunk, toying with his durasteel combat helm within his hands. Like the rest of his armour it was jet black, with and orange trim running down the left side of the helm. It was insulated, however held no fresh oxygen supply. His armour was coloured in a similar fashion to his helm, and also made of durasteel, as a commander however he boasted a thick left shoulder pad, wrapped around the base of his shoulder. The armour was in his cabin to the left of his bunk. He didn't think he'd have cause to outfit himself in it during the duration of his station upon the small mining world. He was staring at the reflection looking back at him through a mirrored visor. Same shoulder length black hair, same thin strip of facial hair along his jawline, same slim, gaunt features, and same blue eyes staring right back. However those eyes had a worlds worth of worry etched in them when a thin spear of metal, torn from the structure opposing the one he was in, spearheaded its way through the wall on his left, and left his helm impaled on the wall aside him. Only at that moment the alarms had begun to deafen his ears, and only then did commander Desertdown look through the small, recently opened hole in the side of the barracks he was in. To see the structures bellow collapsing, from the weight of the first Basilisks falling from the stars.