Ra Vizsla
The Undying
// Faction: Mandalorian Union
// GARRISON //: Mando'ade Exiles | 403rd Battalion
// ALLIES: None
// ENEMIES | TSE | Graug | Death Watch | Pollution | Planet
// TAGS | Trajan Fett Darth Carnifex Ijaat Mereel Adenn Kyramud Jaster Awaud
I fight the world, I fight you
I fight myself. I fight God.
Just in case my faith goes,
I'll live by my own law.
Trajan Kurze.
The only Mando'ade Ra even remembered from his time serving with the Sons of Mandalore, the whelpling band of rebels propped up by the New Imperials. In a sea of puppets, Trajan had seemed the only other free spirited Mando'ade that the veteran Vizsla could remember. Funny that now, his surname was screamed by this man with such angst - perhaps Ra had, simply by wearing another flag on Manda'yaim, invited further provocation from his own brethren within the ranks of the Crusade. Still, their advantaged position no longer held is hidden advantage, and had been obviously scoured by Death Watch.
An explosion rocked to the west. Only a few city blocks, perhaps half a dozen.
Sundari Palace?
Another example of a symbol that had to be rebuilt a dozen times in only the last few years by the Mandalorian people. It sounded like an explosion. Ra had to make his way there, regardless of what Death Watch's purpose was in stopping him. Whether by the Union's direction, the Crusade's, or some other force at play that the naive Ra was unaware of - there were more forces vying for control of the city than the ranking Vizsla had been originally ready for. Ra's emerald vizor moved slowly from side to side, taking in full view that of the barreling Death Watch Trajan and that of the billowing smoke and sounds of destruction raining emergent from Sundari's oldest and most ancient symbol of authority.
Usually, the brutish Ra held on to one of his more powerful weapons until absolutely necessary, but it seemed this Trajan fellow was looking for a fight.A fight that would be given. "Ne'tra cat'ra," he whispered.
Screams answered.
Roche. Such a long time ago. A hundred, perhaps two hundred, civilians and Mandalorians vented out of an airlock. A mother grasping her children. A father, holding his son's hands, shielding his eyes from the eventuality that the cold vacuum of space would soon void the oxygen out of their lungs, disarming them of their last abilities to scream in the face of death. Each of them, as if stabbed in the back, as if an orifice had been punctured through their chest, gave one last gasp as the last of the air was voided from their lungs. There were no screams. It was a quick, sudden, painless silence as hundreds of people heaved and were suddenly no more.
Such was not the way with Ne'tra Cat'ra, the Black Sky Basilisk of Ra Vizsla. When she approached Trajan Kurze and his men, she screamed those screams of the victims of Roche. Programmed with the metallic sound of a thousand Mandalorian voices, screaming in the face of death, roaring through the air as the black dragon's jets pummeled against the Sundarian rooftops as it barreled forth, blocking Trajan's trajectory to Ra.
"403rd, proceed to the Palace. Support the Union's claim and await my arrival."
Ra's jetpack began whirling.
"I will be there shortly."
The 403rd would proceed towards the Palace to investigate the disruptions as Ra took off into the sky, heading towards his basilisk and to intercept Trajan.