Love fiction: Thank you again, love that you are always there to review.
Sued13: I hope you have continued to read along and still enjoy the story.
Grahala Ceratir= Shatter Points
Manda has a lot of meanings in Mando'a based on context, Manda* is for their version of heaven.
There has been some reinterpretation of legends and canon lore throughout the story, but the core concepts of the lore stays the same, so yes I changed some things, but its all to make it work.
The shipping freighter was being loaded by the Barabels, the guard who was stationed at the spaceport didn't bother stopping them from taking control of the ships. He didn't get paid enough to stop them. The company of fruit merchants who were being taken captive trembled as the Clan of warriors imposed orders on them. Barabel's ranging in heights from six to seven feet, all adults armed with a variety of weapons from primitive spears to the blasters they won from their defeat of the Imperial regiments sent to overthrow them. The fruit was unloaded and instead massive amounts of meat replaced the shipment, other Barabels from neighboring clans excited by the commotion and coming to investigate.
"Where Clan Reka going, is the whole clan going offworld?" A yellowish brown male Barabel asked casually as a greenish red Barabel male walked past in armor through the port. It was rare for even a couple barabels to leave the planet. For a whole clan to leave was unthinkable.
"We go to war." Tokor replied easily to the other male, his nestmate Zalle helping direct the clan to load food and weapons. Zalle's daughter Saba had told them of her vision of the woman with armor, Zalle recognizing it as War Sister Andora. Only a few members were being left behind to guard the clan's nest, but the clan was eager to follow the request of their future jedi.
"Why go to war offworld?" The yellowish brown male asked, watching as the humans around the port nervously flinched when the Barabels passed. The last time this many Barabels had been in the city they had forced the Imperial officer in charge to sign a peace treaty.
"Jedi said we should go." Tokor said, shifting the weight to his other arm since he had stopped to talk. "We leave when our future Jedi comes back with something for us to take."
"If Jedi is asking, Clan Surax will not be left out of getting Prestige. And Clan Relhig needs to know to remember this." The male puffed out his chest. Tokor scratched his claws against his chin, shrugging his shoulders.
"Must ask the Longfang*, we only just decided today to go to war." (Leader) He resumed walking towards the ship, the other rushing off to inform his clan's Longfang. Clan Reka already had enough prestige for having a Jedi come to stay with them to train a nestling. No way would he let his clan miss out on something they could control. Barabels from the other clans in the only port city on the planet also quickly learned of Clan Reka's mission to leave, their clans quickly dispatching groups of their own warriors to not allow Clan Reka all the war glory. It was mere hours before the port was overrun by warrior Barabels commendering any ship in the port that could fly through hyperspace. On even the busiest day the port was one Barabel for every 20 off worlders, and maybe only a few hundred off worlders there for business. Today there were easily 3,000 Barabel warriors milling about the port.
The creatures in the cages were snarling and hissing, but the solid sides kept the slamming tentacles from harming anyone. It had been dangerous to trap the vicious monsters but Saba felt that they would be an extra edge for the slightly primitive society when heading off to war against the more advanced world's armies. When Saba and her hunting party returned to the port with the cages she felt a bit intimidated by the pressure resting on her shoulders as she looked over the sea of warriors coming with her to a fight she only had a vague idea about. The only human that seemed at ease among the Barabels waved her over, his x-wing the only ship being left alone. Her clan members nodded her along to see what he had to say, Saba rushing over to his ship and bowing respectfully to him.
"Do you feel ready for this?" He placed his hand on her shoulders and did his best to help her feel calm. Saba nodded, her tail twitching nervously behind her. "It's okay to be scared. Trust in the Force and in your training. My sister confirmed some details for us, you will just have to find them once you get there. The destination coordinates for your ships are already programmed in."
"Not mad we are taking the ships?" He was running his hand through his hair as he looked towards the ship crews glaring at him for not standing up for their business interests from behind the safety of the main viewing port.
"Just try and not get them blown up okay. I already reached out to my brother-in-law to come help them get some of their shipping done. I'll stay to help keep this from being an issue till he can come handle it. Just be careful Saba. Being able to use the Force doesn't make you invincible." He patted her shoulders and she looked at his artificial left hand, a good reminder of that lesson.
"Is this one ready for a jedi weapon?" She said hopefully, looking at the lightsaber on his belt. Her teacher laughed and unhooked his weapon, holding it in his hand between them as she reached out timidly.
"Pull it from me." He said softly. Saba focuses her attention on the weapon and tries to will it into her hand. She could feel him resisting, it did not even shift in his open palm. She sighed in defeat as the weapon did not come to her. "Not yet Saba, but next time we meet, I think you will be ready." He returned it to his belt, and it seemed that the ships were waiting on her now. Saba steeled herself and put back on her smile, eager for her first trip off planet, and the chance to put herself to the test.
"This one will make the Jedi and Clan Reka proud." With that she turned and made a sprint to the open loading ramp of the ship her clan was waiting in. The boom of thunder from the approaching monsoon cresting over the horizon was like the starting shot as the ships rose into the atmosphere and made their jump to hyperspace. He joined the crews in the shelter, not wanting to be washed away by the torrential rains.
Din struggled to keep his eyes open during the fifth long winded speech from the other clans. His helmet would sway and dip before he jerked back awake, looking at his display to see this was hour six of the voting, and so far none of these clans had offered up any plans, just leaders. Vim had taken Pirpak outside when the kid had gotten fussy, saying he had already made up his mind so he did not need to listen to the speeches. Din had tried to protest but he trusted the kid's judgement, if the little guy was happy going off with Vim, Din would let him socialize a bit. His stomach was gurgling angrily as he had not eaten for a day and a half now. Worse than his stomach was the cracks in his lips and the taught feel of the skin on the roof of his mouth from dehydration.
The room seemed restless and there were other people less gracefully asleep at their spots. Their snores running through their voice coders coming out stilted and staticy. Thankfully when this speech ended a break was called for. Din rose quickly, determined to get back to the kid, get some water and a ration pack. Vim was sitting outside on a nearby bench, pointing up at the stars as the child babbled into his ear. Seeing Din approach he rose to his feet, chuckling as the little green ball launched himself in a jump towards him. Din reached out in a panic to catch the kid who only giggled as Din caught him.
"Come, you can rest up with me. They won't start up again for a few hours." Vim said walking away as he expected them to take his invitation. Din was desperate for rest on his own ship but knew it would be wiser to take Vim up on his offer. The temptation to leave after Andora was strong, and being on his ship would make it worse. The walk was short, Vim's home a simple building between the village and the guard gate, a well worn dirt path splitting the soft grasses between the porch and the tiny guard gate spoke of routine. Opening the door Din and Pirpak were greeted to a modest interior walking down the stone steps. Turning on the light Din saw the interior space below the surface was dug in deep, a larger space capable of housing a sizable family. A small convert, tunnels leading off the main room towards what Din assumed were the rest of the home. In the room's center was a cooking hearth, and along the walls seemed to be filled with the images of other people, Din recognizing Andora's family as some of the faces. Vim stripped off his armor with a hefty sign, his eyes focused as he started up the fire and pulled out some food. He pointed towards the nearest tunnel.
"Fresher is down that way." Din nodded, Pirpak eagerly walking around the new space. Taking care of his needs Din took a long look at himself in the mirror, not understanding what the point was of him being here. The clan heads weren't offering any plans, they were willing to just leave the planet to be enslaved because they weren't true Mandalorians. What did that matter? Would they really stand by and allow the Empire to kidnap an entire planet's children? His thoughts clouding over as his hunger, thirst, and the physical pain returned in full, the painkillers wearing off, and his body demanding care and rest. In the central room the sizzle of meat on the skillet was the most wonderful sound, the spicy sweet scent of the marinade filtering up into his helmet, his mouth watering. Pirpak was trying to get closer to the stove top, Vim easily putting the kid back every time he started to crawl on top.
"Come on kid, you've seen fires before." Din said, moving to pick the little green ball up.
"It's fine, I had seven sons, all pretty clustered together in age, all of them arguing over who would get the best piece first, trying to nab it from the pan. Saved plenty of fingers by eating it myself. Teach 'em who's the boss." Vim chuckled as he stared towards the wall of pictures.
"Where are they?" Din asked, seeing the tantalizing glass of water in front of him. Vim looked back down at the meat in the pan, turning it over to crisp both sides.
"Manda*, with my sweet Ree." Din looked at the large home now, its emptiness far more haunting. "It's just me and Andora left."
"What happened?" Din pulled Pirpak close, giving the little squirmer water first.
"We raised soldiers...they were brave boys. Every one of them." Vim's face faltered from warm to a hard hatred. "Shit leaders are what happened to them." The meat was pulled off, some eggs cracked to cook in the fat left behind as the meat rested. "What happened to all of us." The shells were tossed in the fire, cracking as they burst from the heat. "We put our lives and honor on the line, and leaders toss us into the tides of war without a care. We fought and died for other peoples homes, and look at what's left. Full pockets and empty beds."
"You sound like Andora." Din said softly, the kid fussing with the water and trying to crawl away to explore the house more.
"Nah, if I did I would be praising Mereel." Vim's smile was sad when it came back. "Didn't like him then, still don't like him now. I mean, not proud about how we did him in, was a shame. But we won, then his men passed the title to his pick instead of the strongest warrior." Din suddenly felt a bit on edge as Vim plated the food, the egg yolk still jiggling and gooey as it rested on the meat. Vim filled his own water and took a long drink, passing a knife and fork as he cut the egg and let it drip over the steak as Vim cut it into small bites as Pirpak moved over, eagerly opening his mouth and swallowing down the bits being held out to him. "You can take it in a room, eat, drink, rest, little bottomless pit here and I will keep each other company." Din wanted to argue, to push himself, but he couldn't, his stomach rumbled loud enough it seemed to echo. Walking down into the hallway Din closed the door to a room, ripping his helmet off and drinking down a hearty chug of water, relishing it rushing down his throat before stabbing the egg to let its yolk run and coat his steak, helping to cut the heat of the spices used to cook the meat, leaving flavor and only slight burn. Din barely registers this as he scarfs it down, the weight of the meat easing his stomach. Din wants to get back out to Pirpak but his body refused, the pain from injuries treated with the bare minimum effort was catching up, the exhaustion robbing his muscles of their strength, and he felt himself fall back to rest on the bed below him.
Andora was leveling her best glare as the door to her cell was opened, rising up to her feet and following them under threat of force. The jacket ripped from her shoulders and left her once more shivering from cold. The glorified bathing suit offered her nothing in terms of protection, feeling a painful pinch to her rump and doing her best to swallow down her reaction. She had more than enough energy to heal it, so why waste time fighting him. A blaster bolt to the back of his head could come after her escape. As she reentered the office she could see the viewing port was open, the stripes in hyperspace starting to shorten as the ship slowed down, a planet coming into view. Nar Shada, the city's glimmering lights would have been exciting if this place was not the literal lawless wreck of multiple crime syndicates trying to wrestle control from each other. The ship was moving towards a part of the city that seemed a bit more upscaled and established, meaning the richest of the worst lived here. The massive transport ship was hovering over the palace below, the ships heavy artillery aimed below to strongly discourage anyone trying to acquire things from Grakkus without paying.
"I do hope you like it, you'll be staying here from now on." Grakkus chuckled, having sent for his taxidermist once they dropped out of hyperspace, wanting to see if anything could be done about the scars and to plan her display case. Andora dug her nails into her palms so hard she could feel where she broke the skin, the pain a welcome relief since she was unable to act right now. "I want her brought down with the relics, she's going to be busy." She was led to the storage crate that was nearly full, the men shoving her in before closing the hatch behind her, leaving her inside as the crate was loaded up. She was fuming but she wasn't able to do anything more than pout and angrily slap and kick the frigid metal walls. It was hard to tell how long she was inside the container, the trip down to the planet's surface a short trip but she was not 'unloaded' for a while. At least it was not freezing cold anymore, but the amount of air was limited and she was starting to panic a bit. Finally she could hear the latch locking mechanism come undone and the bright light outside was blinding compared the darkness inside the box. She was tugged out of the container as the workers began to unload the relics, her eyes adjusting to show her a massive display room filled with impressive pieces of art from a variety of cultures. This was awful, terrible, soul crushing. These pieces of history were stolen to be locked away from the cultures they belonged to, not even in places of study where they could be learned from, but just here for someone to privately gawk at. These weren't just generic pieces that someone could own, these looked like pieces ripped right from temple walls based on the cut marks. The damage done to the places these belonged just for this crime lord to own them made her despondent.
"You like it yes? It's impressive, only the Emperor had a nicer collection. He even stole from my old one." Grakkus chuckled, her being shoved by the guards to move when she failed to follow after him. "Since you wouldn't know these relics...I'll just take you to what I need authenticated." Andora was so caught up in the despair she didn't recognize the danger of the Chiss woman standing at Grakkus's side, the woman appraising her while taking notes on the pad she had. She had done the last eight taxidermy pieces for Grakkus, and he was impressed by the woman's talent for preservation and hiding all the seams. The woman approached Andora, circling her as Andora's eyes were locked on the sheer amount of stolen relics. It was when the Chiss touched Andora's scar that she flinched away and finally took an assessment of what was happening. The blue skin and red eyes were a bit washed out by the harsh lighting in this storage room, her black hair in a small bun while she wore a black suit. "How much do you think?" Grakkus asked Herna, as they moved towards his main room.
"If you want anything done about that scaring it'll cost extra. I have a solution that should help break it down so I can smooth it out, it won't be gone entirely but it will remove the overgrowth and discoloration." The room was a much more muted dark red color, with softer lighting and elaborate display cases about the Jedi and relics, each and every case had tags and screens. Andora suddenly understood just how deep in the bantha pile she was as they passed one of the display cases filled with a posed rodian body in Jedi robes with a makeshift lightsaber in a heroic pose.
"Can you use it while she is alive?" They were talking over her, as if she wasn't there, but the humming of her collar kept her in check.
"It would be more effective. So her skin would probably be ready by the time she's done working for you." Herna had her medical droid come up with a bottle of something, checking it over. "Do you have any chemical allergies I should be aware of?" Herna finally asked to Andora, the red eyes unphased that she was asking her next victim to her face if she was allergic to something before turning her into a mannequin.
"Jump up a Rancor's ass." Andora said with as much neutrality as she could but it didn't save her from falling to her knees and shaking in pain as the collar put electricity through her body. When the collar finally stopped she was struggling to put her thoughts in order, aware she was being held down, with her wrists bound, a knee on her head, and her legs pinned as well. The medical droid started to load the bottle into it's dispenser arm. Andora was trying to fight the men holding her down, screaming as she was given a higher voltage to put her down for longer. Once she stopped twitching she felt some cold liquid being sprayed on her leg. Maybe the electricity had made her nerves more sensitive, or maybe this was just that bad, but it felt like the skin on her left thigh was burning from the top layer and slowly seeping deeper. This was some type of strong acidic or basic compound based on how badly it hurt. It was a couple of minutes while they held her down before the droid wiped her exposed thigh down, the layers of skin that made up her scarification starting to be peeled away. A spray of water to flush the injury, showed that the raised flesh on her scar was shorter now, and the area was a uniform redness as the black flesh was being washed out by a painfully strong stream of water. Grakkus looked at the area, nodding approvingly, mouse droids waiting to clean up the mess, blood mixing as the black scarring was washed out exposing the flesh underneath. Bacta was then sprayed on the skin, it stopped the physical pain but Andora felt the loss of even that much of her honor so deeply. It was hers! Her mark, her sigil, and they wanted it gone so he could turn her into a doll. She hated them. She wanted to kill them. That hatred was burning deep in her heart, her eyes narrowed on them. How dare this worthless slug do this to anyone, especially her!
"In another few hours we can do another peel, it should take 2 days to have the skin ready, for now bacta and peel solution rotations every couple hours to help smooth the area. I'll leave the droid to oversee the care of the skin while she does whatever errand you have for her. You have garments for display?" Herna seems unphased by what she is doing, completely focused on her professionalism in her craft. Andora wasn't a doll, she wasn't something for him to play dress up with!
"Oh...I have a few different ideas, she's mandalorian but her ancestor was a jedi, so I definitely want to put her in the central case before the armor room after the force relics. " Grakkus was laughing, Andora feeling the energy she took rushing to the front of her consciousness, and she swore she was going to show that vile slug what pain really was. "I want her to be in a pose that helps accentuate that duality." Andora was struggling to keep her breathing steady as she stared at the pair, she wanted them to hurt, to suffer! Andora's breathing was strained, her body trembling with her malignant thoughts, and as she stared into the reflection of their faces in the glass it started to vibrate. Andora could see a faint glowing web like pattern in the glass, leading back to the focal point, her rage channeling towards this weakness.
"The fixing process will be simple enough." Herna was not really concerned about his details, just trying to sketch up some possible positions. Humans were a bit boring, their low number of limbs and joints severely limited what she could do with her skills. The Hutt and the Chiss were standing right in front of a display case containing a pair of relics she did not recognize. Grakkus held up his hand to silence Herna, looking at the case closely, Herna leaning in as well. Nothing else was vibrating in the room, so what could possibly be happening?
(Trigger warning for eyeball trauma and bloody imagery.)
"AHHH!" The glass case shattered as the pair leaned in, the fragments exploding towards them violently, the men on top of Andora also shouting in pain as glass pelted them. Andora ducked her face down, feeling some glass cut her scalp and her body, her freshly peeled skin in a new level of agony as the glass easily sliced through the skin. "FUCK!" Herna was desperately trying to keep her eyelids open, not wanting the glass shards to travel under the skin or cut the lids. Screaming for her medical droid to wash out her eyes to get the suspended glass filaments out. Her heart rate skyrocketing as she could see the shadow of the glass pieces impaled into her eyes. There were large chunks in her face as well but that was not what had her terrified. Grakkus was in a similar state of agony, his soft slug flesh lacerated in multiple places, blood welling up and starting to flow, mixing with his mucus layers. He tried to push Herna aside to get the medical droid to treat him first. Other guards rushed into the room at the commotion, frantically sprinting to help their boss. Calls for medics and qualified droids were made, everyone trying to get the glass out from where it had embedded itself. Andora crawled away from the group, digging out glass from her own flesh. The floor was covered in glass and blood. A few mouse droids were getting underfoot, cleaning as the glass was extracted, blood being spread on their treads as they sucked up the glass. They chirped out in terror as they were kicked aside, a thunk sound as the little rectangular droids came to a stop, unable to right themselves. Lord Grakkus was being whisked away where he could be properly treated, Herna's droid washing out her eyes as its other arm carefully extracted the glass. Herna could feel the glass leaving, a liquid extruding out of the gashes in the sclera. Once all glass was removed she could finally close her eyes, the horrible feeling of the fluid in her eyeball leaking out to mix with the tears escaping down her face. She gripped her droid as it bandaged her eyes before starting to lead her away so she could get her own medical care.
(End eyeball stuff)
Looking around Andora found that in the commotion she was left alone in the private collection room. She worked to shake the glass from her hair and scalp, her fingertips bloodied and she knew she hadn't gotten it all out but at least the larger pieces were removed. Now that she was under less stress she could feel the residual of others surrounding her in the Force, it was a bit chaotic as it was a mix of cultures. Andora flipped the little droid bots back onto their tracks, the little machines chirping in their language before they set about their tasks cleaning the glass and blood. Inside the case with the shattered glass she looked at the relics, two ornately decorated crystalline shapes, their insides almost glowing under the stage lighting. These two seemed to be the loudest, a woman's voice from the ruby pyramid, a man's voice spoke from the sapphire cube. It was overwhelming, the voices seeming to shout over each other in a meaningless jumble of sounds to get her attention.
Thankfully a familiar drumbeat sliced through the cacophony of voices, drawing her towards it. Relief flowing into her, reminding her of the calmer moments with the cave of ancestors. Gazing up to the sense of comfort her eyes met a set of armor, the insignia unmistakable. Mand'alor Mereel's armor. She felt her stomach roil in revulsion as she noticed that some of the smaller pieces in the set which should be made from Beskar had been replaced by lower end durasteel. The armor was singing out it's song, a song filled with honor, of brotherhood, of glorious battles, ending in the deepest of betrayals. Andora sank to her knees, an attentive listener.
Mereel had been betrayed and robbed of his armor by his own commando. Her family had delivered a death blow to a broken, unarmored, and unarmed man. Tor had killed him, but it had been Montross that broke him. The man that had taken this armor, and sold little pieces of it bit by bit to pay for his lifestyle before ending up here and fighting to the death. The armor had refused to remember much of the thief, and for that she was grateful. She was so focused on the armor she didn't feel someone behind her until the sharp sting of the tranquilizer shot, her eyes drooping as she slumped into the display case. Cosh Shesh, the Nikto, ordered the men to pick her up and toss her unconscious body into the cylindrical display case that was going to be her new home, locking it firmly.
"Based on how she was reacting to the armor, it's safe to say it really is an authentic piece. I'll need to order a new piece of glass for the holocron cases." He moved to the open display, the men clearing out the other shards still in the frame to prevent further injury. These two were Master Grakkus's favorite Force relics, which funnily enough had been brought to him by the last Mandalorian they hired, Montross. With gloved hands Cosh put the information tags back under their corresponding holocrons. Darth Traya, and Master Windu.
End Chapter.
The eyeball event is based loosely on the time my sewing machine needle broke and the metal was in the white of the eye, pulling it out hadn't hurt, but good lord was it scary and weird.