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Nedjust Get Off My Island

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She wasn't sure about this. About any of it. Even if her new 'mentor' was Dar'manda too, it felt like taking up with fellow Mandalorians again, and that was like a knife in her heart. Because it wasn't the same. It wasn't her aliit. It wasn't her family. They were gone. But at the same time.. It was what she was used to. Working with other people. And particularly with people who'd been trained in a similar manner. So when a job came up and she felt like it could use another competent person, who did she run to? A Mandalorian of course. Which was frustrating, and honestly had her a bit angry with herself, but she needed to show these new people she was capable. She wasn't some charity case. 
Besides, credits always came in handy. New armour, new blasters, new tech, maintaining the old. It all cost.
So when she accepted the job to wipe out a smuggler encampment on Nedjiv and re-secure the island known as The Gleam for CIS interests, she'd sent a message to one Braan Kell for assistance. She hadn't met him, but if he was Mando trained and in the CIS registry, he should be competent enough. Or at least she hoped so. If not the agreement to split the credits fifty-fifty was going to get renegotiated. With fists.
In any case, she was waiting at a CIS outpost a quick hyperjump away from their target. She had a borrowed corvette. If Kell had his own ship they might go separately, if he didn't they'd both fit in the corvette. It would depend upon how he showed up.

Darth Animus

Darth Animus
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The Mandalorian Protectors. Centuries ago they had been true warriors, men and women who had followed Mand'alor the Resurrector into battle against the Republic in the Clone Wars. They had been Mandalorians, warriors through and through. Those that served under the banner today, Braan had his reservations about. He couldn't put his faith in many of them, for most of their ranks were now Dar'Manda, soulless. It would be a long time coming to see whether they truly could live up to the legacy of the first Mandalorian Protectors. 


Now, he was going to meet one of their members. He had received a message from a Protector requesting his assistance in a upcoming assault on smugglers base. As far as he knew it would be a simple job. He had brought a small fighter along with him capable of hyperspace travel, landing it a short distance away from the corvette resting on the ground. The moment the starfighter was offline, Braan popped the cockpit and hopped out, his cape wrapping around his left side as he walked across the short distance between the two vessels. His helmet betrayed no emotion as he took in the one he had come to help, though he had already begun to question this assignment.