Note: In this Arc, I tried to convey the Mandaloriens a lot, but I fear I may have made them overly aggressive.

Mandaloriens are honest to the point of bluntness and nearly insulting you, and they don't mince words. They speak through action, and they believe in the worth of a person being made through work and fighting. They have a strong moral compass designed around honor. This is shown no more highly than in their view of Revan.

Revan wiped them out and kicked their butts so hard that many Mandaloriens view Revan with honor. Even as a foe, they respect and love him in their own way. Yet at the same time, Revan did not just beat them, he shattered their culture when he hid the Mask of Mandalore (which he later helped them find again.) So there are not only those that love and respect him, but those that hate him. He didn't just beat them, he broke them to the point that they couldn't get back up.

When he helped them find the mask, there didn't seem to be any reason behind it. There was no real reason for why he is changing his mind. He broke their culture for a reason. He returned them for a reason, but one that doesn't make that much sense, because the way it was done was like "ok I was wrong." No.

So in my mind it wasn't a 'Ok, I was wrong' reason. In my story it will be "I believe you are ready to return." reason as though they have learned their lesson. Because a people as hard headed as them need exile for a good 10-15 years to learn not to piss off the Jedi and Republic.

I love the Mandaloriens history, culture, and personality. I hope to convey them right in the future.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the clothes on my back.

Episode 6 - Preserving Dantooine Part 2/3

On the rooftops of Khooda stood a figure adorned in armor. On his back rested a modified Tenloss DXR-b Disrupter rifle with a modified cell clip. Long story short: Illegal. Before him lied the green horizon of Dantooine. Little dots could be seen in the distance where five sets of tents were erected by his enemy, and he felt insulted. He knew there were more Mandaloriens than this standing against him, but they would not present themselves. Instead they hid like rogues. Clan Ordo was not revealing themselves to fight honorably. They might give him an honorable fight when it comes to blows, but already that fight was tarnished.

His brothers hid behind civilian shields like cowards. Was there any doubt as to their fate? It is law that if even your ally hides behind a civilian shield like this, you should execute them. Ally or not, foe or not. This was as low as a soldier can go.

The codes of honor dictated that they should have their brotherhood stripped from them and killed like the trash they, then for their corpses to be displayed in public humiliation. At the same time, an honorable execution by your own blood acknowledged the guilt of your crime, dealt out punishment, and restored some honor. Could he do that? Could he kill his own blood? On the honor hand, Izthark, himself, was guilty by association. He stood to lose just as much as his brothers. Would he stand with his brothers and become a rogue clan? A clan destined to wander aimlessly with no guide or hope?

"Sir!" The Klasin soldier stood at attention on the rooftop.

"What is it?" Izthark broke his thoughts.

The soldier dropped to a knee and clasped his fist into his palm in salute. "Sir! Brother Bijae wants an update on Ordo's movements."

Izthark looked down on the man thoughtfully for a moment. "Tell me, soldier, what do you think is disserved to people who hide behind human shields?"

"They should be executed."

"So if your leaders were to do that, what would you do?"

The soldier hesitated, but eventually said, "I would continue to follow them. It is honorable to follow your leaders without question. I would have no regrets!"

"I see…" Izthark said flatly. He showed nothing, but stated, "A scouting party neared the walls this morning, as usual. Go, tell him that."

"Sir!" The soldier stood to his feet, bowed, and departed.

"Fools…" Izthark muttered to himself. "Is there any honor in choosing stupid leaders? Choosing a leader means supporting their ambition and dreams, a leader you know is just and true. You should only choose one whose goals you believe in."

He neglected to mention the Republic scout ship he saw in the distance, or the robed men joining the enemy scout party this morning. He pulled out his sniper rifle, aimed downward, and fired.

Mr. Captain-guy was nice and helpful once Mandalore gave him his orders. We snuck up to the walls as best we could with a team, and entered in through a hole in the wall that they had been keeping an eye on for a long time. Inside was a the inside of a building that previously existed as part of the wall. It was dark as night, but periodically I would see along the way someone salute us briefly from the shadows. We wove our way through rooms and up and down stair ways.

We should have already been at ground level to begin with, so I wondered why it was we were doing all this complicated mess. The answer was that a huge portion of the building had been collapsed. A straight path was impossible, if we wanted to remain unseen from the open holes created in the absence of entire walls.

We entered a room that once belonged to an office dude, maybe a manager from the size of it around the desk that was thrown haphazardly against the window. The window itself was shattered inward.

If I were to take a guess on the window, either Klasin was trying to get in during the original take over, or they knew Ordo was occupying it.

Two Mandaloriens leaned against the desk as cover while peering out through cracks they made another one crouched against a corner with a radio on the ground right in front of him. He appears to be talking. All of the Mandaloriens in the room jump at the sight of Jedi; but Mr. Captain-Dude waves them off.

"How is he able to talk with transmissions being jammed?" I asked.

"Jamming signals often leave open port frequencies or wavelengths known only to the attacker." Tree-Hugger whispers.

We slide across the ground to him. Mr. Captain (and friends of three) move to the window of the opposing wall.

Mr. Captain says, "Report." He eyes the area outside, and is gifted with a lazy shot to the ceiling for his trouble.

"Well they haven't gone to too much trouble to knock us out yet. They seem content to leave us to this building." Mr. Radio-Dude says. "Interestingly, they lost coordination a few seconds ago. Their squad leader disappeared out of thin air. It sent them into a panic, so things have been relatively calm."

Another three shots hit the walls around us, and one entered in through a window to hit the opposite wall. Dust flew from the impacts. "You call this calm?!" I argue.

"Very."

"He simply disappeared?" Mr. Captain asks.

"Yes sir. Right in front of our eyes. I would say cloak technology, but they have been acting like a bunch of noobies ever since. He is very much gone."

"Then now is the time to bang out."

"I thought this was a secret mission." Ahsoka says.

"It is, you don't think we use these windows only do you?" He laughs. "Come come." He bolts out of the room in a low crouch down the hall again. We follow him along with his squad.

Turns out this building is linked with another through a small basement in which they both share water utilities. The power stations are shot and fried, but after a minute or two of running we find ourselves in another building identical to the first. This one, however, everyone is much more secretive. The stationed soldiers are making no effort or desire to reveal themselves. Nothing is barricaded, no sound is made, and they are wearing black armor as camouflage with the lack of lighting. The building is also in the shadow of a skyscraper, so that makes it easy.

We enter a room with a door that is conveniently NOT barricaded shut. Another radio-guy is here behind a bar in a local pub. So I guess the place is a pub.

Mr. Captain and his men reach the door and he glances out. "They don't see us. Across the street is a miniature skyscraper. Operatives have attached a rope lining to it toward the port station on a level that is, unfortunately, patrolled. They haven't caught the rope link yet, but just in case I have Mr. Pockets over here carrying a spare." One of his squaddies raises a coil of metal rope on his shoulder for emphasis. "When I say go, dash across the street into the open doorway. Cameras are already taken down, so it should be fine."

Ahsoka walks around him and peers through a gap he is leaving. "But what about the Klasin men stationed only ten feet away?"

"That, my dear, is not your concern. Just go when I say: quietly and fast."

Everyone nods. Mr. Captain-Dude points to the radio-dude behind the bar and says, "Give them to signal to give them something interesting."

"Sir!" The soldier salutes and barks something in code into the transceiver.

Ten seconds later the ground is shaking, the air is filled with smoke, and fire erupts all over the place outside. There is screaming and blaster fire thick as rain turned sideways. "Go! Go! Go!"

We dash through, and for a brief moment, the laser fire rests up. I brave a glance of the battlefield a few scant feet away, and see the enemy is pinned down so far they can't dare move, and the air is so thick with fire and smoke I can barely make out their shapes. All around us there are other shapes like me and them, and I honestly cannot distinguish between who anyone is. I don't even know the building is in front of me. I just run like my life is depending on it and run smack into a door a moment later.

I manage to see girly grab the handle a moment later, swing it open, and I dash in. the air immediately clears up and I crouch down against a wall to cough my lungs out. Tree-Hugger, Ahsoka, and five Mandalorians all do the same in their own way. We lean back against the wall and listen as the fire lets up outside.

Wait, shouldn't there be four?

Mr. Captain-Dude picks up a silencer pistol and shoots the extra one in the face. The Klasin man fell.

That's better.

"Let's move." Mr. Captain-Dude says.

We head out, find some private stairs, and begin the long journey up to: The 27rd floor. Why couldn't we have just taken the elevator!?

I thought to talk a bit with Ahsoka while we climbed, whispering of course, but after the seventh flight of my words echoing off the walls -is my fault I'm naturally loud?!- Tree-Hugger bops me on the back of the head. In other words: "Shut up." Right. Shutting up.

After the tenth floor, I'm getting tired, and at the fifteenth floor I need to use Force Stamina to keep up the pace. I can tell Ahsoka is having a bit of a harder time than me from her wiry frame and amount of sweat and how focused her eyes are on the next step followed by the next step. By the 20th floor All I can see is the next step myself. I don't even bother paying attention to anything until miraculously our journey concludes with us at the 27rd floor.

Ahsoka and I collapse on the ground. Tree-Hugger chuckles and whispers down beside us, "Here's a tip. Start using Force Stamina before you become tired, and you will last much longer." He is unnaturally cheerful for two hours of climbing around five hundred steps!

"Aye." Ahsoka nods tiredly.

"Go to hell." I whisper.

Mr. Captain-Dude glances at me for a brief moment, but says nothing. He cracks the door open ever so slightly. He puts up hand signals and after throwing some gestures that I don't get, they storm in and fire. Just as fast as the fight started, it ends, and before long I hear, "It's clear. Let's move."

"How can they not be tired?!" I ask.

"Mandaloriens." Ahsoka mutters darkly, as though that's the answer to everything. Odds are it is.

With the Force feeding my limbs, I manage to climb up onto my feet a bit shakily. I help Ahsoka onto her feet and we follow Tree-Hugger. The room has three dead Klasin soldiers and Mr. Captain is waving for us to follow them. We head along the outer rooms of the skyscraper one room at a time, with only one incident where a lone enemy was peeing out the window. He was gagged and knocked unconscious.

"Here it is." Mr. Captain says.

We enter an empty room where the windows are blown outward. He peers outside quickly and sees the rope is still attached between the two skyscrapers.

"Fools haven't caught on yet… Alright, Jedi first, we will watch your backs."

"Alright. I'll wave a saber when it's clear to come." Tree-Hugger says.

Tree-Hugger takes a cylinder thing from an Ordo man, clasps it around the metal rope, and it launches him across the rope to the other side. He disappears briefly before sending the cylinder back. Ahsoka takes it next. I'm last.

The cylinder comes back to my side and I step out to take it. Ignore the fact that I'm hundreds and hundreds of feet in the air, on the 27th floor and shit now I can't get it out of my head! Breathe, Varus! I am not going to fall and crack my head all over the road!

I really need to stop thinking. I think too much now that I'm with Jedi. I should just do things instead of thinking about it.

I breathe in and out and grab the cylinder. There is a little rope loop on it, and I tie it around my wrist. (That is a wonderful rope loop!) Nothing happens. Closer inspection shows a little button. I hit it with my thumb and the next moment I am being launched off my feet over the open air to lower ground at, I'm guessing, the fifteenth floor of the Port Station. The ground below whizzes by and the wind blows by me like I'm flying.

The cylinder stops abruptly at the end and my feet dangle forward from the moment, but my grip and the loop-knot keep me from being thrown. I plant my feet down, untie myself, and Tree-Hugger hits a switch to send the cylinder climbing back up.

"That wasn't so bad." I say. I shake my legs a bit to get them to stop being so damn shaky.

"First time for anything is usually the worst." Tree-Hugger tells me. "You did well. I screamed my first time. 'course I was twelve."

He flashed his lightsaber up and waved a bit, and a moment later we have four fully armed four-hundred pound Mandalorian troopers coming down. They immediately start moving out as though dropping ten floors in ten seconds with a combined weight of eight-hundred on a thin metal wire is a walk in the park.

Mandalore stood on the hill overlooking Khooda. Before him was the southern gate, guarded by a Klasin tank and forty soldiers. Behind him was artillery, ten Dragoons, fifteen tanks, and nearly two hundred soldiers. Meanwhile, in space, was his personal battleship ready to hand down life and death on these poor slobs with pinpoint accuracy.

Overkill? Oh, yes.

And that was just this team, didn't count the four others marching on the northeast and northwest gates.

Klasin didn't even realize how royally doomed they were. Green cloth was all it took on this landscape to hide TANKS and ARTILLERY. Even as huge as they were.

The Republic cruiser would not be happy if he started aerial bombardment with the Jedi General, and the civilians, still in firing range. It was something he had been holding off on, but they should be ready by now.

"Have we received the signal yet?" He asked his attendant beside him.

The attendant shook his head. He kept his hand to his ear-comm. "They have passed the first two checkpoints, but I haven't received word on-… Mark that! They are past all four checkpoints. The Jedi team will be nearing the hostages in nearly ten minutes."

"Let them know they have five. And have the artillery line up their shots. I want one from each battlement hitting the first floor of each skyscraper in the first wave, and the rest on the gates themselves. Nothing gets out after hell goes loose."

"Yes sir!" His attendant immediately started barking into his helmet-communicator.

Meanwhile Mandalore walked down the hill. His personal guard of four rushed to keep up with his long stride. He neither ran nor walked, neither moved too fast, nor moved too slowly. He knew he had guns pointing at him the moment he was exposed, and cameras more than likely. His semi-lonely walk showed that he didn't fear the Klasin, no matter what they had on him, and he had something to show.

The tank aimed at him, and instinctively he flexed his right arm. If that thing opened fire, he would need to pull out all the stops. Luckily, though, nothing happened. The soldiers back off as he neared, and the tank didn't move, but neither did it fire.

"Klasin Trash!" Mandalore barked as loudly as he could. With his helmet magnifying his voice to be ten-times louder than normal, it was an impressive volume. He had no doubt this entire block could hear him. "You have proven yourselves dishonorable! You hide behind the weak and defenseless like vermin and cowards! This is your first, final, and only chance to redeem your honor, your status, and your heritage! All of you who hide behind these walls will be whited-out! No one shall remember you and your names will be removed from the history books! Your families shall forget you were ever born, and your names shall be marked so future children will never have the shame of being given your name! Everyone NOT in the city, shall be spared. You have five minutes!"

With that said, he turned around and marched back the way he came. He knew a few would flee, several already had and come to him wishing to have no part in their leader's doings. These were fine.

He could hear murmuring and fearful voices behind him, and a single shot fired at him. The shot was too far and wild to do anything, and he didn't waste his time responding to the cowardly bullshit.

Attacking someone while their back was turned was nothing compared to what they were already doing.

It is time they were put down like the dogs they are.

Mandalore the Preserver returned to the hill and asked, "How long have I been walking back?"

"About five minutes, sir."

"Very good." He raised his hands, and the artillery fired the first shots.

Unlike what most people think, real battles don't have starling speeches and grand moments where the hero miraculously can speak to every single person in his army like a megaphone.

It is a real thing in that the leader can tell a squad the importance of their mission. Not to mention politicians. There are times a general can give a very small one, be heard by those in a short distance, and cause some momentum.

The Mandaloriens didn't have any of that. They may talk tough, but that's only because they like to be honest, straight forward, and at the end of the day: They let their actions do the talking for them.

The tops of the skyscrapers exploded in fire and fell to the ground. Unlike what most people think, it only takes about thirty seconds, or a minute at most, for it all to 'land'. Dust exploded out of the city billows in thick clouds until the entire city was thick with it.

The entire Ordo army exploded in cheers and roars and charged.

On a distant part of Coruscant, where the world was red and dark with smoke and smog, laid a number of factories. Smoke billowed out of the world's metal crust in great bursts and fire erupted where the heat of such work was uncontainable, or being exhausted. One of these factories rose up out of the flat layers like a dark fortress. Ironically it was also abandoned, for its Dark energy was beyond anything most mortal could bear for long. It gave hallucinations to all who entered and to eventually madness, starvation, and death. Even from a distance it is a place of torment and fear.

Ironically the dark place is actually a production of the Jedi. For they know that all dark things must gather and fester, so they choose for the Dark Side energy, that which breeds on thought and fear, to collect in a single place where it can be… contained. Its purpose was not only to draw all of the planets Dark Side energy to one place, but to be a place where it could be purged. The Jedi regularly visit here to release the energy into the Void. However, with the war effort, the energy, the dark place, has gone on unchecked; ever growing.

The people believe Coruscant to be a place of light and beauty and peace. In a sense they are right, for it is at the cost of a single dark blot that has become so thick even the collective Jedi Council dare not peer into it. It will take decades when the war is over for them to be able to purge the energy of this 'prison' back to a controllable state, but with their minds on the war, they do not bother with it.

Fortuitous it is then, to a cloaked figure entering it who does not fear the Dark Side.

The cloaked figure looked out into the landscape. From his vantage point it appeared almost to be a kind of man-made volcanic wasteland, the fires were so thick. He turned away from it and entered the dark factory.

Hallucinations and ghosts bit at him, madness drifted around him, and voices cried out to him for mercy and end to their agony.

All of it he ignored. They were nothing more than the thoughts of the people across the planet who's fears gave birth to the energy to begin with. The 'ghosts' in a sense were very much real, but were real in the sense that they were images and memories of the very events that gave birth to them. Murder, pain, betrayal… something as simple as a kid falling off steps and crying over a scratched knee; all of these things passed through the mind like water demanding an answer to the injustice and flaw that is creation and the universe.

In a deep dark place, the cloaked man batted away a particularly annoying ghost and pulled up a holographic communicator. An image appeared on it. An image of an old man, not as old as the cloaked one, but old regardless, standing upright. The man was bearded, robed in black and brown, and held himself like a noble… or rather a Count.

"Count Dooku." The cloaked man greeted.

"Master." The Count returned with a bow. He put a hand over his heart as he did so.

One particular ghost, a thin lanky old man, peered over the cloaked one's shoulder with insane curiosity and big eyes. Tears rolled down his face from the torment that had birthed him, but in his orbs was also curiosity of what this mortal was handling.

The mortal batted it away in annoyance, and the old ghost drifted away.

"It has been too long since your last update, my Master. I was beginning to grow fearful."

"Not without reason, my Apprentice. The Jedi have been looking into my presence of late." The Dark Lord responded. His voice was youthful for his old age.

This stirred the Count. "They suspect you?"

"Not quite. You recall Darth Nihilus?"

"Yes, Master. A truly vile Sith. His end on Coruscant was… beneficial. Even if the Sith were weakened as a whole without him. His way would have only destroyed us all."

Ignoring the Count's ranting, the Dark Lord said, "His apprentice, Starkiller, challenged me to a duel. I accepted to fight him on the very bridge of The Ravager where it fell."

The Count's eyes briefly expanded. He had heard of Nihilism's apprentice. The 'Starkiller' Sith, was a Sith bred for no other purpose than to kill Jedi. Jedi Masters specifically. He was weak in all things except that one task. The Count had never fought the secret apprentice, but he had heard rumors of his many successes through his contacts.

For this apprentice to be targeting other Sith, and the Count's master no less, this was… was… not unforeseen, but a great obstacle. It was half expected for this apprentice to be targeting Sith Lords at his Master's wishes.

Though it was not his Master's wishes that brought Starkiller to Coruscant, the Count suspected. Every apprentice is raised, taught, and expected to be the ones to kill their Masters themselves. It was the ultimate release of all the hatred they have fed themselves with, the ultimate goal of power to hunt those with power and prove themselves greater than it.

For Nihilus' apprentice to be robbed of that right. The right to take vengeance for an abused childhood and life, the right to take power itself from the very hand that has held it at arm's reach and egged him on his entire life… It was only natural for Starkiller to target his Master's killer than.

And for it to be on the Ravager's bridge! How very symbolic! Nihilus had grown very desperate in his need to feed, and as such went to Coruscant. If it wasn't for the entire Republic army, most of the Jedi, and a few bounty hunters and Sith (who also wanted Nihilus dead) all waiting for him, they wouldn't have been able to kill the Dark Lord and send The Ravager crashing down on the planet. It was amazing that the ship survived the crash, but not as much as the simple fact that everyone survived the Dark Lords death. Supposedly killing the ghost-man would have caused a wound in the Force so great it would destroy all life in the solar system.

"And, did you?" The Count asked.

"No. While fighting the apprentice myself would have been a good time for self-growth, I chose a different route. His presence alone in coming after me as a Dark Lord was enough to raise the Jedi's suspicions. I did not want a duel to erupt and blow my cover. Also, killing him would have made the Jedi believe 'Palpatine' too desperate. I had his mind wiped."

The Count's eyes bulged out in surprise, and a lot of ghosts around the Dark Lord hushed their screams briefly.

The Dark Lord continued, "Starkiller is now a Jedi named Varus Wynn. A rather interesting choice, this mind wipe… I want you to look into the technique. Bring me what data you can find. If I can use it on Jedi personally, the use of such a technique would be vast."

The Count recovered from his surprise and smirked knowingly. "It shall be done, my Master."

"In addition." The Dark Lord continued, "The Force has blessed us in recent events. The Jedi, suspecting me, looked in places of pockets of dark Side energy."

"Did they find this place?"

"No, they wouldn't dare. Only Masters can handle this place and live to tell about it." He brushed aside more ghosts that had an innate curiosity. "A search party containing Varus, incidentally, found something rather… interesting. A trove of Revan."

"I was not aware Revan ever spent any time on Coruscant."

"Neither did I. An interesting thought, but hardly necessary to deepen into. Rather what is interesting of it was what was revealed. The Star Forge was not destroyed, and the knowledge of it was classified by the Dantooine Council."

"The Star Forge!" The Count gaped briefly like a fish, his composure briefly shattered. "Wha… how…?" He calmed himself and said in his normal monotone way, "Does this change anything in our plans?"

"Not too much. General Anakin Skywalker and his Padawans have been sent out to find it for the Republic. I need you to pump up the pressure more in order for 'Palpatine' to gain extra supporting in using it once it is found. In addition, stay out of the way. I expect it to be found by Skywalker."

"Very good, Master. I shall do as you say."

"Good." The Dark Lord said flatly. "Lastly, I need you to stop what it is you are doing with the Star Port."

"My Lord?" The Count asked with confusion.

"The Jedi are being restrained more and more. They have grown to suspect it. Last thing I want is for them to truly start thinking I am here among them. The move is obvious and stupid for you to have done, Count."

"My Lord! I have not!"

"What?" The cloaked man tilted his head to the side curiously.

"My Master." The Count groveled. "I have done nothing of the sort. It is not my design that is holding the Jedi back."

The Dark Lord was silenced. If it was not his apprentice who was holding Jedi back more and more from their travels… than who was?

And why?

Chapter Edited by Aeterna Knight: u/4617921/

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