The Redeemer
| Objective | Work until the mind numbs.
| Focus |
Sam Sheridan
Jenn... was tired.
Whenever she looked back, her life felt somewhat akin to a series of disjointed events. She remembered her time after the collapse of her people, the time spent wandering the stars as a bounty hunter, feeling well and truly alone in a vast galaxy. A time where she believed in strength above all else, shaping herself into a weapon above all, refusing to be dulled by others. The odd looks given to her whenever she mentioned the ancient ways she followed, words such as fanatic and zealot uttered in her presence by her own people. Fear and anger made for a destructive mix: Jenn vowed to never let anyone ever hurt her again, and so she trained incessantly, vowing to fight for the Mando'ade until her very last breath. In those days, she believed in the need for her people to expand, to build a larger sphere of influence, to never let the tragedy of Mandalore be repeated and her people scattered across the stars once again, left to wander, to work as bounty hunters and mercenaries rather than devoting themselves to a greater cause.But... Jenn was no longer this person. The aching feeling of loneliness had been all but banished after she met Sam, and, as the two of them went about establishing their business together, she found the mechanic's comparative exuberance rubbing off on her. Why hide away behind her buy'ce for the rest of her days? Why deny herself the pleasures of life in the name of a rigorous and austere life spent honing her skills? With each little pique sent her way by her business partner, each joke and shared break from their respective projects, she had grown more and more comfortable with something resembling normalcy. And with the two of them entering a relationship and moving in together, the fiery-haired warrior mellowed out, her heart softened through the tender playfulness of her girlfriend. For the first time in many, many years, she pursued all that she wished to be... and with her training as a smith well underway, she eventually learned patience as well, and perhaps even a measure of wisdom.
For a time, everything had felt truly right. Jenn had found a woman she loved dearly, a calling in life that brought an immense sense of pride, and a measure of peace and safety within the Mandalorian Enclave.
But now, everything was crashing down around her.
Her people were at war with the Galactic Alliance - and the New Jedi Order within it, leaving her with no choice but to consider the bleak future ahead of the Mando'ade. As a smith and tactician, she understood all too quickly the danger of going up against such a large enemy, capable of mustering forces large enough to beat Mandalorian skill with sheer numbers- not to mention the deployment of the Jedi, capable of meeting her kin in battle and humbling them. And among those Jedi... was her best friend. Reviled by the Mando'ade of the Enclave for killing the Rallymaster. Someone who had shown her respect, consideration, and perhaps even kindness! Thinking of facing her into battle was enough to twist her stomach into knots - even more so after learning of the woman's pleasant family life.
She'd always been a romantic.
But after Ryloth, Jenn found family after family coming to her Forge, grieving parents, siblings, spouses, children and friends presenting the battered armor of their loved one to her. Some wished to see it repaired, others asked for it to be reforged and incorporated into their own - others still preferred to have it melted down entirely, unable to face the markings of someone they had known so closely. And when she was not forced to watch the buy'ce of fallen vod resting in her hands, the smith poured the rest of her energy into designing new weapons of war to face the Jedi and their allies in battle: brutal weapons of war meant to turn the tide, yet perhaps too niche to make much of a difference. That such ventures brought her valuable experience was a cold comfort when she stared at the schematics hanging on the walls, ripping them up and crumpling them into balls to toss into a bin- all too aware that she would be right back to building a prototype from the ground up the next day.
And then, there were the things she sought to avoid by burying herself into her work. Valery's monumental revelation to her concerning her Force Sensitivity - yet another kindness from a woman that was, by all rights, her enemy, yet sought to bring clarity to her nonetheless. A gift from the Manda, as some might say... but she had little time for training, and she was oh-so afraid of all that it entailed. Not to mention the results of her ill-advised infiltration of Dromund Kaas to confirm word of an old friend's return from the dead: disquieting whispers in the back of her mind promising her everything she could possibly want and more.
Not to forget her realization that she was an oddity among the Ersansyr, if not a freak. Although her change had been forced upon her, Jenn had grown to love and adore her new nature, cherishing it preciously as a core component of her very being - but, evidently, she remained the odd one out. On those rare occasions when she met a fellow Ersansyr, they were soft-spoken, capable of great persuasion and diplomacy, not to mention seduction... and here she was, a Mandalorian with social anxiety.
And today was no different. Another sleepless night spent in her Forge, using the beskar'gam of fallen vod to forge his daughter a pauldron, that she may remember her by - in accordance to her wife's wishes. Jenn thought she had grown numb to the grief, the mourning, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. She thought working would alleviate her issues, forcing her mind to focus elsewhere than her worries.
All too unaware that she was only isolating herself, each and every issue piling up on top of her shoulders. And soon, she would collapse.
