Answers

[Silas Mantis]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RyfCTZB6Nrk​

"I said where is he?!"

Thwak

Blood splattered across the duracrete walls of the Nar Shadda alley as the beskar gauntlet connected with the Zabrak man's lips, Silas pinning the low level smuggler for the newest iteration of the rebel alliance to the wall. The Mantis was after an information broker, one with plenty to tell about the First Order. While the younger Mantis had never been fond of Imperial types, having fought with Preliat in one of the many Rebel Alliances against the One Sith, but things were different this time. This was about family, and as such the beating was all the more brutal.

"I can't tell you! Do you know what that'll do to me? To my career if nothing else? Just pay the fething price like everyone else!" Spat the zabrak, futily struggling against the Mandolorian's iron grip. Firing a punch into the gut of the smuggler, the man jerked in anguish as he hacked violently as the breath was taken from him, only for another strike to catch him on the bridge of his nose, breaking the cartilage. Before he could so much as whimper SIias brought his hand back viciously, blood once again peppering the wall with crimson droplets as Silas lifted the man up by his throat against the wall.

In a flash Silas has a blade to the throat of the zabrak. "Where?" He asked firmly, glaring into the zabrak's eyes from behind the 'T' of his visor. Gulping, the man opened his mouth to speak.

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

N A R S H A D D A A

The unfortunate Zabrak would not have time to answer 'where.'

"Stop! You're going to kill him!"

The voice of a woman rang out into the night like a call to arms. It was the voice of a woman whose first language was not Galactic Basic. The cultured accent, twisting and curling off her tongue, was exotic and unmistakable. The voice could have belonged only to a high-born daughter of Mandalore.

Artemis Lux descended from the shadows and into the alley with all of the swift, lethal grace of a lioness. Face concealed by a helmet, the scarlet and gold of her signature armor gleamed brilliantly under the iridescent haze of the urban lights that illuminated even the seediest depths of the Smuggler's Moon. Nar Shaddaa was a good place to curate all kinds of information, especially the particularly dubious brand of information that was not meant to be openly shared. Everything on Nar Shaddaa had its price, even long-sought answers to questions that were buried deep inside the most intimate of places: the heart.

Tonight was about family. The armored man beating the groveling Zabrak senseless was not the only one who came to Nar Shaddaa with a bloodthirst for answers. Artemis was here to collect information of her own. Three years' worth of information. Three years had passed since the nameless, faceless coward of a Jedi had killed her husband and child. Artemis had made the treacherous pilgrimage to Nar Shaddaa for vengeance. She would not stop until she collected enough information to track down the Jedi and put him under the wicked blade of her beskad. That is, she was not planning to stop . . . until she heard the Zabrak's cries in the alley. Artemis was a strong woman, a small though mighty huntress, but even she was not immune to the sound of an innocent's pain. Not when the pain was unnecessary. Not when there were better alternatives.

Without another word, Artemis rushed at the Zabrak's tormentor and made to ambush him from behind. What she lacked in size and strength, she compensated for in smarts and speed; her slender arms were quick to grab him around his thick neck and hug his back tightly against the gilded smoothness of her breastplate, tearing him off and away from the whimpering smuggler and holding him in a ferocious embrace. Their armor clinked together, iron on iron.

"What good is his information if it dies with him?" She murmured against the back of his head, her voice coming out like the warning growl of a feline as her helmet clashed against his. "What information is more precious than a free man's life? . . . shall I pull my blaster on you and find out?"


[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

He'd been careless, and now some high born-type had pried him away from the smuggler who fell to the ground hacking violently. If the accent hadn't given it away, the unmistakable clink of beskar against beskar made it clear the woman who'd pried him away was Mandolorian like him. "<Family.>" He responded bluntly in their native tongue, not moving a muscle as the zabrak staggered to his feet and ran away. Silas would find him again, or someone like him, and he would break them to get the answers he needed if that was what was required.

Mantis's beskar'gam was the battered and scorched from engagement after engagement, but it said a lot about the man, as did the fresh blood on the gauntlets. His mind was calm and collected, despite her threats the woman hadn't pulled a gun on him yet, so she didn't necessarily want him dead which was a step up from the alternative. Slowly he sheathed the knife and debated forcefully separating himself from the woman, but reason stayed his hand.

"He has information I need, if he will not talk then another will. Let me go." He demanded, keeping his eyes forward as he glared at the alley wall, now speckled with drops of blood from his 'talk' with the smuggler.

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

Artemis froze. The man spoke . . . and his words were the words of her people. Everything from the inflection of his voice, to the familiar sound of Mando'a curling around his accent, cut her straight to the core. He sounded like home--the home that now barely existed. Mandalore was deteriorating, and with it, the pieces of what was beginning to feel like her former life. It had not been enough for the cruel hand of the universe to take her husband and son. It had to take her homeworld, too, scattering the clans across the galaxy like so many stars. It had to take their homeworld. The blood of Mandalore ran through this strange man's veins as much as it ran through hers, and in an instant, she knew that he shared her suffering.

For a moment, Artemis could not speak. She simply loosened her grip around the man's thick neck and stepped away, ignoring the Zabrak as he scampered off into the shadows. The beskar armor . . . the distinctive shape of his helmet . . . in the furor of her adrenaline, she had missed the clues. Now she saw them all.

"Gar cuyir Mando (You're Mandalorian)," Artemis murmured in their native tongue. All at once, she reached up and removed her helmet. The crowning glory of her obsidian curls tumbled free down her shoulders, and she looked upon him with her face revealed. Her vivid green eyes held him strong, as if he was a ghost that might suddenly slip away.

"Forgive me," She breathed, breaking the momentary silence. "I . . . haven't seen one of our kind since the deterioration. Those who didn't perish simply disappeared. I feared the worst."

Artemis was not one to readily express emotion. There was no place for softness, no room for weakness in a galaxy that pushed out life and death like cogs in a war machine. What she did not say was, 'It's good to see you,' but the sentiment was writ plain across her features. She furrowed her brows, pursing the full bud of her lips and nodding her head toward him in a fresh wave of understanding. She now knew why he was so thirsty for information about family.

"I'm looking for information about my family, too."


[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

As she released him, Silas pivoted to face the woman. She was older than him, and from the looks of it far wiser. The way she spoke of home, of Mandalore suggested greater loyalty to the clans than he'd held in some time, yes he'd have answered the call to serve it up until the disaster, but he hadn't been a patriot by any means. The Mantis's weren't a warrior family, growing up on Ordo he'd watched his brother eventually grow to stardom in sports and using the credits to support their family, and then watched him join the Mandalorian ranks with the same purpose, before eventually cutting contact with his family. Determined to find his elder Silas chased after him, found him, and became a warrior of the clans. But it had never been his dream to do so, he'd just wanted to find his brother, but the life of a warrior swallowed him whole.

"Think nothing of it." Silas replied to her apology, years ago he likely would've done the same thing.

If his brother who he was here hunting for information on was to be believed, the destruction of Mandalore had been orchestrated by the clans themselves, to force the warrior people to endure and become stronger. He didn't know if he believed that, but he no longer swore allegiance to the Mandalore, only to himself and...something more. Was it his family? He wasn't terribly sure.

"You're the second I've seen, I'm here looking for leads on the first." Responded the hulking man, reaching up and pulling away his helmet, letting it fall to his side in one hand as he returned the nod of understanding. His tan skin was marked with dark paint, which ran over the scars that adorned his face, his dark hair was tied back for once, and his somber brown eyes looked as if they had only seen death. "Silas Mantis." He stated, introducing himself and extending a hand to the woman, preparing himself for the usual firestorm that followed the second of those two names being mentioned.

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

The man beneath the helmet was young, but hIs eyes were dark and soulful. As Artemis looked upon his dusky face, she was struck with the notion that his presence felt much like a coursing river: steady and stoic on the surface, but with waters that ran unfathomably deep. Artemis, a perceptive woman, sensed that he had seen much in his short lifetime. It pained her for him. She was not much older than he, but at his age, she had known nothing but bliss--marriage, motherhood, the security of family and the promise of eternal tomorrows. She had lost all of that in an instant . . . but it seemed that he had never had much of a chance at it at all.

That was worse.

When he spoke his name, Artemis knew why. Mantis. She had heard of the surname and the man who bore it. However, there would be no firestorm reactions from her today--not when Mandalore was already so divided, not when she had traveled the galaxy as a lone island unto herself, only to stumble headfirst into a fellow countryman that she would have otherwise presumed dead. Two united Mandalorians were better than none.

It wasn't all about survival, though. Beneath her hardened exterior, Artemis held a vast well of empathy. The only visible response at the mention of his name was the flicker of recognition that illuminated the green of her eyes, but as soon as it came, it melted into unexpected warmth. She smiled.

"Artemis Lux. It's good to meet you, Silas."

She took his extended hand, the slender digits of her fingers swallowed whole by his large palm. As they shook hands, it became abundantly clear to her that it was more than good to meet him--it was a relief. As their hands fell away, her eyes lingered. She had an idea.

"Perhaps I could help you," Artemis offered slowly. "And you, me. Nar Shaddaa is a sprawling hive of information, but it's barely a fingernail of the Outer Rim. Two minds and bodies working together are more efficient than one."

​She paused, the glimmer of another small smile pulling at the dimple in her cheek.

​"Especially when they're Mandalorian. Now that I've found a fellow countryman, I confess that I'm not eager to be alone again just yet."

​Before Artemis could speak any further, however, there was a rustle behind them in the alley. She turned over her shoulder in a fan of dark curls, peering deep into the shadows, before flashing her sharp eyes back to Silas.

"It isn't safe to talk here. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but our kind aren't often greeted with thunderous applause. Do you have shelter?"


[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

At first he was almost shocked nothing followed the revelation of his name, occasionally it resulted in a warm greeting, other times it lead to a weapon being drawn on him, this was neither. In her voice he could catch the smallest hints of pain that must've weighed down on her like an entire planet on her shoulders. Loss. He sympathized with her greatly, and in some ways he could tell she had been through worse than he, he had experienced sudden loss as well, but from a distance. He'd been fighting for some irrelevant warlord when Mandalore burned. His niece and sister-in-law were buried in molten ash, he had only heard the news, while Artemis had watched what she loved be taken away from her.

He smiled back softly and nodded, it was more than a relief to find one of his own and she was spot on in her statement. One Mandalorian was dangerous, two were a nightmare. Nothing would escape their search for the answers they so desperately needed.

"Room at an inn a few blocks north. C'mon." Silas replied, letting out a soft laugh at her remark, before a troubling thought crossed his mind. How many had applauded thunderously while Mandalore burned? Shaking off the thought he beckoned for the woman to follow him as he lifted the helmet up and lowered it back onto his head. Quickly he shook one of his hands, flicking the remaining blood droplets off the gauntlet as he stepped out of the alley and into the street, looking back over his shoulder once to see if Artemis was trailing him, and if anyone was trailing her.

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

Artemis was trailing close behind Silas.

And someone was trailing close behind Artemis.

"Mandalorian scum!"

Artemis stopped dead in her tracks. She, too, had re-donned her helmet; as she whipped the shining metal of her golden head around in the direction of the insult, the hulking figure of a Trandoshan male emerged from the shadows and into the crystal-clear vision of her T-visor. HIs scaly skin was so unfathomably green as to appear almost black, and the way that his yellow, reptilian eyes flashed menacingly made something deep in the pit of Artemis' stomach turn. The Trandoshan was not alone. Behind him stood a Weequay and a Kyuzo, blasters drawn and looking equally as displeased as their reptilian leader . . . and even farther behind them, simpered the badly bruised and bloodied Zabrak. He scowled at Artemis and Silas but did not venture past his comrades.

Instinctively, Artemis moved her slender hand to the blaster tucked into the neat cinch of her waist. Stupid. It seemed that neither she nor Silas had anticipated that the Zabrak would have friends, but there was nothing they could do now but respond to their gross oversight. She steadied herself, planting both feet firmly in the ground and staring down the unfriendly newcomers from behind her helmet. Silent, wary, but unafraid.

"How dare you enter my territory and demand information without paying the price!" The Trandoshan snarled, drawing his own blaster. "How dare you beat my best employee within an inch of his life! Now who will make my Kessel runs for me?"

"It looks like you have plenty of help from your friends," Artemis remarked casually, nodding her helmet toward his two cronies.

The Trandoshan was veritably growling now. "You have lost me more credits than you could count in your dizziest daydreams, you filthy Mando!" He barked, but after a moment, he paused and looked her up and down. The gravelly baritone of his voice dropped to a slick, molten purr. "Say, what do you look like beneath that armor? Stolen ship parts are not the only parts I deal in, woman. Perhaps you might fetch a pretty price."

The Weequay and the Kyuzo snickered. Any composure that Artemis had previously held bled out of her heart and was replaced with a sudden quell of ferocity. The Trandoshan's crass words had woken the Lioness. "You should be so lucky," Artemis murmured, raising her blaster with the flash of one hand, but it was too late--

Zip! Zing!

One of the smugglers--whether it was the Trandoshan, the Weequay, or the Kyuzo, Artemis was not sure--let rip a stream of red blaster fire. The initial strike hit its target; a burn sizzled into the front of Artemis' shoulder, just where the edge of her gilded armor ended. She cried out in pain, instinctively dropping to her knees. It was a shallow but cheap shot.



[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

That had been a mistake. Yasha was free of her sheath in seconds, brandished in Silas' right hand as he sprung forward. Silas brandished one of his WESTAR-34's in his left hand and fired into the lizard's leg, the fire of the thugs scraping over his beskar's shoulder plate only spurring his anger as he wrapped an arm under the snout of the trandoshan and yanked his head upwards. Trandoshan's were massive, powerful beings, utter savages.

But not like Clan Mantis.

Nothing like Clan Mantis.

As blasts hit the lizard, causing it to writhe in pain, Silas pressed the blade named in honor of his late niece down into the Trandoshan's collar and yanked upward with tremendous force. The blade cut scaled flesh to ribbon as the Trandoshan cried out in agony. Behind the 'T' of his visor, Silas rage burned in his eyes, the brute of a man snarling like an animal as he ended the life of his prey.

"Let us show them why the galaxy trembles at the mention of our people."

[member="Artemis Lux"]

(Sorry about short post)

 

[Artemis Lux]

Silas' voice was like a call to battle. Artemis responded to him out of instinct. Her gilded helmet snapped to attention, those brilliant emerald eyes burning upward behind her visor from where she knelt, crouched low to the earth like an injured--and angry--Lioness. It would require more than a dirty blaster shot to her shoulder to tame her warrior's spirit, to make her submit to the lowly men who would sell her half-way across the galaxy if they could. No, a woman like Artemis was not meant to be tamed or caged; the passion of Mandalore ran hot through her veins and, while she did not actively seek the thrill of combat, she would not back down from it when it called. Tonight, its siren sound was strong.

The blaster wound sizzled and burned into the tender smoothness of her flesh, but still Artemis rose--like a phoenix rising from the ashes, she rose, utterly indomitable, spurred onto the warpath by the scent of blood and the heavy presence of her Mandalorian comrade. Silas fought like a force of nature--somehow wild and controlled all at once--and in an instant, the Trandoshan lay at his feet, a bloodied and mangled mess of ribboned scales and flesh. Something akin to grim approval curled at the corner of her full lips. Good.

​Her satisfaction was short-lived.

Out of nowhere, or so it seemed, the Weequay descended; his thick hands made to grab at the back of Artemis' neck and drag her back into the alley. That was his first mistake. "There, there, my ferocious little pet," He snarled against the back of her helmet. "If Scorza can't have you, I will." That was his second mistake--his last mistake. It happened in the blink of an eye. With a mighty cry, Artemis reached down and unsheathed the wicked-looking beskad from its concealment inside her boot, driving the blunt end directly into the Weequay's ribs. The burly creature might have cried out had Artemis not knocked the air clean out of his lungs; instead, he merely fell to the ground and onto his back with a great, stupid thud. In a flash of glimmering armor, Artemis spun around--and this time, she brandished the pointy end of her saber inches away from his throat. But she did not stop there. Swiveling her torso ever so slightly, she extended her other arm to aim her blaster at the Kyuzo and the Zabrak.

The Weequay whimpered, glancing frantically from Artemis to Silas, then back to the Kyuzo and Zabrak--the two goons too cowardly to help their fallen 'friend.'

"I will give you ten seconds to run," Artemis murmured dangerously, her chest rising and falling heavily from adrenaline, arms spread out in a T, brandishing her blade on one end and her blaster on the other. Without second thought or hesitation, the Weequay, the Kyuzo, and the Zabrak scrambled up into the dust and fled, disappearing into the shadows beyond the alley. Artemis shook her head, watching them go. "Smugglers like to talk, but they're not fighters," She said after a moment, then turned to Silas. "You shouldn't have beaten the Zabrak . . . but I'm sorry you weren't able to get the information that you need. We'll find more reliable sources elsewhere--together."

Artemis made to sheath her weapons, but a sudden flash of pain in her injured shoulder caused her to drop both the beskad and the blaster in a clatter to the ground. She inhaled sharply and then gasped, gritting her teeth as the burning sensation radiated out of her nerve endings in razor-edged waves. In the heat of the moment, she had not felt the blaster burn as she fought. Now, it nearly brought her back down to her knees. She took a moment to simply breathe, before lifting her head once more. They needed to get to that inn, and fast.


[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

There wasn't time to talk, apologies and such could wait, right now his one ally in all this mess was injured. He scooped up her weapons and tucked them away as best he could with the leather straps crisscrossing his armor, then putting one of her arms around his shoulders. Mentally he ran through the supplies in the room as he helped her down the street and into the rather dingy inn. It wasn't much, but it was all he could afford. Hopefully the noble wouldn't be too offended if at all. He didn't know, he was judging based off sterotypes.

Swiping an M45 blaster off of the bed he made room for Artemis and did his best to help her sit down. "Get off the beskar'gam, so I can get to the wound." His tone came off as brutish, perhaps even rude. He didn't intend for that, he was simply worrying, he wasn't used to applying medicine to anyone other than himself. Pushing aside a bag containing what may have been an IED he'd purchased, he grabbed one of several bacta containers.

"Please." He added, hoping to remedy the possibly perception of rudeness, his tone softened this time. It was his fault, he knew that, he hadn't done enough reconnaissance, he'd let his emotion blind him. Silas had been fething stupid, and now someone else had paid for that. Hopefully that would not sour the possibility of the two cooperating.

(Sorry about the late reply, things have been crazy)

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

Where other women might have found Silas' sharp tone and brusque movements offensive, Artemis found them to be just the opposite. Artemis was no ordinary woman--she was a Mandalorian. The same primal instinct for survival that coursed through Silas' veins, coursed through her own veins; they were bonded together by the fierce pragmatism that had made their people the greatest warriors in the galaxy for centuries . . . that had kept their civilization alive for eons. Artemis was a noblewoman, yes, but she was a fighter first and foremost. She appreciated Silas' terse practicality and made no notice of whether his room at the inn was humble or grand.

It was shelter. It was enough.

When Silas demanded that she remove her beskar'gam, Artemis did not need the injunction. This was not her first blaster burn--she knew what had to be done. From where she was perched on the edge of the bed, Artemis had already removed her helmet and begun to unclasp the layers of heavy gilded armor . . . one by one, each piece of golden iron fell to the floor with a clang, until she was left in the midriff and pants that were standard for the uniform. It was interesting. Without the thick shell of her armor, Artemis looked quite small. She was quite small, in fact--a slender, feminine woman who was clearly capable of greater feats of strength than her petite frame suggested--and capable of withstanding great pain. As all of the layers fell away, exposing the smooth olive of her skin, it became hideously apparent that the burn in her shoulder was nasty. Artemis inhaled sharply when the cool air hit the open wound; the lean muscles that were carved beneath the skin of her abdomen tightened and rippled with the fresh burst of pain. She felt like an angry lioness with a thorn in her paw--she frankly wanted to scream--but she refrained.

Hard and strong to the last.

"That's not a very pretty sight, is it?" Artemis murmured after a moment, green eyes flashing brilliantly from the wound up to Silas. "I've had worse. Do what you need to do--I can take it." She paused, a glimmer of subdued amusement pulling at the dimple in her cheek. ​" . . . I hope the family I'm helping you find is considerably less trouble than you are."


[member="Silas Mantis"]

 

[Silas Mantis]

He outright laughed. "That couldn't be further from the truth I'm afraid." Preliat may have mellowed some with age in his interactions with Silas, but the fire still raged inside the man who had razed entire cities to the ground. The Wolf of Mandalore could never be made tame, and despite his best efforts, the younger Mantis would never achieve the same level of destructiveness as his kin. At least he didn't think he would, one could never be too sure he supposed.

"It, like all other scars will simply be another badge as testament to our people's ability to survive." He added in reference to the wound which, after he pulled away his helmet, would slather bacta onto. The bolt had obviously hit her well, there was a decent amount of burning from it, but nothing too serious from what he could tell, especially for a Mandolorian.

He kept his hand steady as he rubbed the healing substance onto the wound, ensuring he covered it fully. Silas supposed he should say something. "So, what information do you hope to glean from your venture to this world?"

[member="Artemis Lux"]

 

[Artemis Lux]

Artemis braced herself for the inevitable sting of the bacta, well-versed in the fiery, hadean sensations that would soon overcome her open wound . . . but no amount of expectation, nor any wealth of experience could dull that initial swell of pain. As Silas rubbed the antiseptic into the burned and bloodied hollow of her shoulder, Artemis squeezed shut her eyes and allowed her dark head to fall back, opening her mouth as if to scream--but she did not scream at all. Silently, she gritted her teeth into the brunt of the pain, riding the hot, agonizing wave until she knew the worst had passed. When it did, she would not acknowledge it; a new kind of pain had washed over her in its place.

The memories hurt far worse than her shoulder ever could.

" . . . my husband and my son," Artemis murmured, the heavy rise and fall of her chest becoming more even as her vivid emerald gaze flickered dangerously up to Silas. "They were murdered." Her tone was matter-of-fact and almost cold. Artemis herself was not a cold woman--not particularly. She had been warm once, a fiercely devoted wife and mother with a well of love so deep it could have filled oceans . . . now, she spoke with icy restraint to prevent her well from spilling over into a flood.

"It's been three years, but I will never forget the face of the Jedi who slaughtered them. All I have is a face--no name." Artemis paused, solemn conviction filling the green of her eyes. "I will not rest until I hunt him down and put him under my beskad."


[member="Silas Mantis"]