There had been many things Vilaz wondered to himself throughout the days. What to pillage next? How long until his people would redeem themselves? How much longer could he fight? What age will he be before laying on his bed rest? Where did he came from? The latter was something that intrigued him more than questions of his future. He has little or no knowledge of his biological pedigree, leaving him with no answers of what legacy he carried from his lineage. Though throughout the years he started his own legacy, a child that followed a life of crime in the lawless plains of Concord Dawn would become a renowned warrior that was either admired or hated. He began to focus more on expanding his clan, providing for his family, and plundering worlds to live the traditions of the old Mandalorians. Little did he care about where he came from.
Recently he began his own research of trying to discover his bloodline, wanting to know more what mysteries his own genetic structure kept that remained untouched for many years. A problem was that he was no scientist nor where there any clansmen adept in that degree of genetics. The only advice he was given to answer these questions was to consult with an Arkanian or Kaminoan. The latter was an option that Vilaz would not consider taking as he had no desire to deal with the insufferable Confederacy nor near its territory. The former would have to do, though it wouldn't be simple as he'd liked it to be. The planet belonged to a now defunct New Republic, but just because the newly failed Republic lost authority didn't mean the planet was without a military presence. Perhaps some Republic general or admiral took advantage and made Arkania its bastion of power with their own sense of authority. Or maybe the Arkanians did so in a similar manner.
Didn't matter, all the Warlord knew was what he must do and how to properly do so. The Munin did not plan to schedule an appointment with an esteemed scientist and wait. No, he would see one in his own fashion of doing it.
And he wouldn't be alone.
"How are your bones, ni ruug'la dala," the warrior said to his beloved wife once they had left their ship, in which was cloaked to avoid being detected, and entered the harsh cold of Arkania. Of course, they wouldn't have to suffer that as their armor would warm their bodies properly. "Remember, we have to avoid being seen as much as we can. Pick our battles wisely that way we can get what we came here for quickly."
Was this course of action radical? Why, yes it was. They were Mandalorians. Everything they ever do was considered radical.