“For too long, we have lingered in the shadows of history.
But ‘Mandalore remembers…’”
A holographic helm of iron and crimson had appeared in a message, available across all major channels within the Holonet.
“…When our people stretched across the stars, a paragon of life and death. When our blood stained the annals of all history, for ruin or for greatness. How our hearts have endured the eternal conflict of war, which has tested us time and time again.
Our souls remember when it was our hour, a time when We, the Mando’ade, had shown the Galaxy strength, and offered it in turn.
The Manda remembers all we have lost, and all we can regain. In that glorious age long, long ago, we were the anvil upon which the galaxy had been reforged.
Our mark remains to this day. Upon us, upon our enemies that linger to this day, because of our strength we had subjected them to. For without us, they would have stagnated, and rotted, all that time ago.
Our foes have done worse than kill us. Death is the fate of all Mando'ade.
No, they instead vye to give us a true death - they seek to kill our culture. Our history. Our very souls.
The enemy we face is greater than a battle of life, And death. They wish to erase what we are. What it means to be Mandalorian.
The Jedi, The Sith. The Alliances, The Empires. All of them conspire to wipe us from the face of the galaxy forevermore, as agents of stagnation, decay, and ruin. They promise us a death that will last eons, hopeless, until the last star fades from existence.
I have peered into our past, to the very beginning. These former, glorious times of promises never fulfilled, of an ultimate victory that barely missed the mark.
Now I fight for our future. I know well what occurred before me. I know how fools have trampled the title I now bear into the dust. In turn, I ask; when has that stopped us from moving forward?
I fight so that one day, Mandalorians shall never be looked upon with disdain again. So that they no longer need to reduce themselves to begging others for scraps of glory, but claim what is theirs in full.
I speak to you all at this moment, my people, as an equal.
Mandalore lies in ruin, a shadow of its former self, because we have succumbed to their deceitful promises, their attempts to leash us like hounds. They surround us, Prophets of Arasuum, of death and servitude.
Some cry out that only in reconstruction can we find our future. That peace can only be achieved in capitulation. To worship the soil as if it were a god.
But they are blind to the truth of the matter.
So long as our enemies persist, Mandalore will forever be in danger of its next razing. Your families will never be safe. You will be fed lies that will slit your throat when you are in your most desperate hour.
Your culture will forever be persecuted. Your heritage shackled by those who do not understand our way.
If you truly wish to protect these values, you will not seek to merely defend them. You will claim all, so that none may threaten them again.
To the people of the Galaxy—hear this.
My kin exist as your last opportunity for true freedom. Thus, I extend my offer: any being who seeks a new lease on life may join us. Any who seek strength, purpose, and honor—come. With us, you will forge your own path. A path free of the Jedi’s manipulations and false promises of peace. Free of the Sith’s tyranny and butchery. Here, your worth will be measured by merit, not by class. By strength, not by pedigree. Consider the offer carefully, before it is too late.
To the traitors who oppose us: I henceforth decree thee as Dar’manda. You are cast out. Stripped of honor. Forever bereft of the grace of the Manda’yaim. Lest you renounce your weakness and return to the fold, you will be considered no better than the vermin that crawl in the dirt.
To our kin who idle upon the lie that is ‘neutrality,’ I pity you—so deep in the clutches of Arasuum that you would watch from the sidelines as we move to claim all. You cannot hide behind that facade forever.
I intend to cleanse these blights from our people, like kindling for a fire. Clan. By. Clan.
Your Mand’alor bids you—stand.
Stand for our heritage.
Stand for our future.
Stand for our way.
For the galaxy dares not think of the time when Mando'ade stood united.
They fear what it means for their subversive attempts at our lives and sovereignty.
That time is upon them now.
This is our reckoning. The time the galaxy remembers who gave them the strength to go on.
Who stemmed the tide of the Sith—only for the Republic, with their vaunted claims of justice, to watch as our world burned time and again.
Whom the Sith feared so much, they tried to erase us, and failed.
I call upon all of you, return to Mandalore. Be you farmer, soldier, smith, Alor, I bid you to join the brave-hearted who fight for our future. Lay siege to their lands. Reclaim what is rightfully ours. Aid us in forging our destiny.
I vow to you, Mandalorians everywhere, those astray and otherwise, that I shall burn thousands in your name. We shall sail to a hundred worlds, and that will be a fraction of the debt owed to us. I am the herald of Kad Ha’rangir’s Truth. I am your will made manifest. Your shield. Your weapon.
We will not fade.
We will not kneel.
We shall take from them what they have taken from us, a thousandfold.
United, we shall stand.
Unyielding, we shall fight.
Forever proud
of who
we
are.”
::// End Transmission
