Private Couldn't sleep?

[Kranak Vizsla]

Couldn't Sleep?​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Iron Barracks > Rooftop
Local Time: 03:17
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: End it
Secondary Objective: N/A
Wearing: Form-fitting Gray T-shirt, Flightsuit Pants, Kama, Combat Boots
Equipment: Dual Westar 35C Particle Blaster Pistols, The Thundering Wasp
Tags: Shai Maji

Blinded by Darkness​

Another faithful day spent training and honing their skills to best their opponents more efficiently in the field of battle, the warriors of the Si’kahya[1] had retired to their Iron Barracks within the Kom’rk[2] long ago for much needed rest for the next day, but there was at least one soul among them that could not surrender himself to the serene embrace of slumber, no matter how much he tried.

His mind was a whirlwind of pain, grief and anxiety as the giant occasionally tossed and turned in bed, trying to make himself comfortable and finally get a few hours of shut-eye he had been lacking for the past four days. There were times he managed to turn off, but it lasted for only an hour at best. Copious amounts of caf and occasionally snorting a line of spice in secret were the things that got him through the day.

Struggling to sleep yet again, the giant gave up with a hushed, defeated sigh. Casting aside the blanket over him, he slowly got out of his bunk after glancing at his sleeping squadmates. They were all in deep slumber. The Wardog’s roar-like snoring resounded in the large barrack room. The giant briefly looked at her with envy before he stood up slowly, and tiptoed towards the locker beside his bunk bed. How she could sleep so sound was beyond him.

Carefully opening his locker without making a sound, he reached for his boots and kama. Wearing his warbelt and the kama attached to it, the giant quietly closed his locker with the combat boots in his hands, tiptoeing towards the door to their barracks. Walking around with them right now had the potential to wake up his squadmates.

His long black kama fluttered softly like a whisper in the wind as the automated doors before him opened with a gentle hiss. Stepping into the hallway, the giant would turn right and walk a few feet out of the bunks before the door shut behind him. Making sure he would not be heard by his squadmates and others now, he slipped on and tied his boots swiftly and began making his way towards the rooftop access through the seldomly used eastern wing of the Kom’rk.

The well lit hallways of the Kom’rk were as silent as the night as the Alor’ad[3] walked the empty corridors towards the eastern wing, frequently making sure he was not followed by anybody as he made his way towards the rooftop access. Although everyone but him was asleep, there were still sentries posted up in their guard posts outside on watch duty, as well as the personnel in the headquarters, overseeing a number of ongoing operations both in and outside Enclave space. Keeping the guard change that would occur in the next thirty minutes in mind, the giant would pick up his pace, exiting the Iron Barracks.

It didn’t take him too long to get to the staircase leading upwards to the rooftop access after entering the eastern wing of the base. Reaching the staircase, he would look over his shoulder to glance at his surroundings one last time, making sure he wasn’t followed. Spotting nobody and hearing no movement at the time, he would begin ascending the stairs, making his way to the roof.

Reaching the roof, the doors to the roof access opened before the giant with a mechanical whirr. Kestri’s freezing soft breeze began to chill him as he walked the snow covered roof towards a ventilation duct nearby to sit. He reached for a palm sized metal cigarra case roller from one of his pouches, along with a few rolling papers as he sat down. The soft breeze and the cold air numbing his face and fingers slowly, the giant rolled up a few filterless cigarras with the high quality tabac.

Satisfied with the amount he rolled up in a few minutes, he placed the last one he rolled between his lips as he set the cigarra case aside and reached for a match box from his pouch. The match lit up with a hiss as the giant struck the match to the side of the match box. Shielding the tip of the cigarra with the palm of his left hand from the breeze, he lit the smoke and puffed at it twice as he put out the match afterwards, and flicked it off the roof’s parapet.

He sat there alone as his bloodshot dark-brown eyes blankly stared at the beautiful, jagged teeth-like snow covered mountains in the distance. He began dwelling on something far darker than the shame he harbored in his soul, darker than the night sky above him.

Why continue waking up every Manda[4] forsaken morning? What was the point of it all? Why not just end it?

Only one thing in the galaxy kept him going now. In his current mental state, his duty towards the Mando’ade as a Si’kahya Alor’ad had lost its meaning to him; the drive and the purpose it once gave him was no more. The shame of letting down Eliz and Gwyn weighed heavily on him. The kid was dead, and his daughter had been missing for several months now; still no trace of her whereabouts. Maybe the worst had happened already, and he didn’t even know it yet.

The promise he made on his honor to his ori’vod was the only thing that kept him in this world now, but the grief he could not quench within his heart and soul began to dull that promise with each passing night. Ending it all meant breaking his promise to the Wardog, but what was a broken promise to an old friend compared to failing one’s daughter?

It would be but a drop in the sea of remorse he was drowning in.

His gaze lowered from the mountains afar and onto the floor beneath his feet as he drew the custom blaster pistol his daughter had made for him from its kama holster. Taking a few drags from his cigarra, he inspected the blaster in his hands as his thoughts continued to dwell on the idea. He had considered doing it before, but he could never muster the courage to do it. He always thought of those he would leave behind upon doing it. His squadmates, his friends, his family, the kid’s ursod he was looking after now; but his grief overshadowed them all now. He could no longer see the light.

He didn’t want to live like this. If this was how he was going to be for the rest of his days, unable to make things right, then he wasn’t going to live at all. As much as he would have wanted to fall in the bloodsoaked fields of battle, in the service of his people, the enemy was too inept at taking his life. None came considerably close.

He was going to do it himself, then.

Sitting upright now after making up his mind, he flicked the pistol’s safety off with his thumb and pressed the blaster’s muzzle under his chin, firmly. His trigger finger rested on the blaster’s sensitive hair trigger. He closed his eyes shut as he gritted his teeth.

His hand trembled softly as he tried to bring himself to pull the trigger.

It would be all over soon.

​

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Si’kahya = The shield and sword of the Enclave, sworn to enforce the Enclave’s will with utmost loyalty, dedication and prowess in combat. Elite commando units.
[2] Kom’rk = Gauntlet. The Main base and proving grounds of the Si’kahya on Kestri.
[3] Alor’ad = Captain.
[4] Manda = Mandalorian oversoul.

​

 

[Shai Maji]

The only thing that helped Shai to fall asleep reliably was severe physical fatigue. Pushing what remained of her body so hard that she would get tired. Her cybernetics didn't make it easy, though they allowed her to go beyond her original physical capability before them. War drowned out the dark thoughts, practice honed her for the next battle, and the aftermath left her capable of sleeping for more than an hour or two before a nightmare yanked her back to consciousness. It still happened every now and then, but her new routine of work, war and training helped to keep them at bay. And when none of those worked, the bottom of a couple dozen bottles did a good enough job as well.

Shai was absolutely knocked out in her bunk. Her maw agape, her mane a mess, and her limbs splayed out all over the bunk, she was in a world of pure bliss when her friend got out of bed. It was only when the door hissed open and shut that she was yanked out of her slumber. Her eyes took a moment to focus, though she quickly realized what was going on.

He wasn't one to struggle with falling asleep. And while she noticed the new routines and odd behaviour in the down time, she didn't say anything. Neither did the group. There was something wrong, though. Very wrong. She recognized the symptoms of an addict, and seeing him with them was bizarre to say the least.

This was a perfect opportunity to figure out what was going on.

Quietly she got out of bed, adjusted her shirt and shorts, and followed after him. Using her nose and sharp hearing, she managed to figure out where he went and quietly followed after him. By the stairs, she was getting curious over where he was going. The roof was a great view, but not at this hour. Her feet opened and two repulsors quietly carried her along the stairwell until she reached the heavy door leading to the rooftop. She halted by the door, trying to hear anything going on outside. It was deathly quiet.

Blinking a few times, she slowly reached out and hit the switch to open the door. The sight outside was something she wasn't expecting, certainly not from him.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on, and her first instinct was to call out to him. But she knew what was going through his mind. Likely better than most. Her silent approach brought her to a few feet behind him as she studied the man with the pistol pressed against his jaw. Time was running out.

"Couldn't sleep?" She spoke up over the breeze. "At least gimme that before you pull the trigger, blood and tabac don't mix." She spoke casually, with sleep still drawling through her speech. Nonchalantly she plucked the cigarra from his lips and took a few strong drags as she leaned against the railing of the roof, just a few feet ahead of him. "You know these things ain't very good for ya, right?" She asked with a small smile as she turned to face him, still leaning against the railing. The most important thing now was to get his mind off this train.

A few more drags and the spent cigarra was flicked off the roof. "Ya know, the weirdest thing happened the other day. I spotted grains in the refresher. Spice grains, to be exact. I was almost jealous that nobody invited me to the party in there." She quipped. Sure, she wanted to help him... though there was still a hint of anger over what was going on. She adjusted her shirt against the wind as she walked over to sit on the ventilation duct beside him. "I uh... I'd suggest using the particle mode. If something goes wrong and you survive, explaining it all would be super awkward. Then again, I was going to use a whistling bird to the temple. Not much that can go wrong there aside from a misfire... and I'd still look good for a funeral." She looked at him with a sad smile, hoping that her story would get him to put away the gun. "You got another one rolled?"

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Couldn't Sleep?​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Rooftop
Local Time: 03:25
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: End it
Secondary Objective: N/A
Wearing: Form-fitting Gray T-shirt, Flightsuit Pants, Kama, Combat Boots
Equipment: Dual Westar 35C Particle Blaster Pistols, The Thundering Wasp
Tags: Shai Maji

Shame and Regret​

Eyes closed shut with a frown, teeth gritting and his hand trembling, he struggled to pull down the trigger and be done with it. Albeit his hand shook, something within him paralyzed his numbing fingers. He could not bring himself to squeeze the trigger, no matter how hard he tried. “Come on!” he hissed in anger and frustration between his gritting teeth.

It was the primal urge that existed within every creature, sentient or not; to live. Such urges were stronger in Mandalorians; ingrained to them by culture, expanded upon by their upbringing, honed further and further by training. A dead Mandalorian was a useless Mandalorian.

Thus, it made it harder for the giant to end it. It would become even harder, now that he would hear the voice of his friend a few feet behind him.

”Couldn’t sleep?” She spoke up over the breeze.”

The closed, bloodshot eyes fluttered opened in surprise. Shai? What in Death’s name was she doing here? He froze in place in bemusement. How did she find him? She was out cold, sleeping in bed. The giant also had practiced caution while he made his way to the rooftop, one of his numerous spots he found and used to try and relax, out of sight and out of mind.

”At least gimme that before you pull the trigger, blood and tabac don’t mix.” She spoke casually, with sleep drawling through her speech. Nonchalantly she plucked the cigarra from his lips and took a few strong drags as she leaned against the railing of the roof, just a few feet ahead of him.

Moving in front of him, he watched her as she plucked his lit cigarra from his lips and leaned on the railing of the parapet, facing away from him. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath as his firm grasp of the blaster pistol remained, still pressed under his chin.

Unphased by her karked up sense of humor, he briefly kept his woeful gaze at her as she smoked. Someone else completely foreign to her dark sense of humor would have been taken aback by it, but the giant had known her for at least a decade now. He became used to it long ago.

The Wardog then turned around after a brief moment passing in silence, facing him with a faint smile spreading on her face.

”You know these things ain’t very good for ya, right?” A few more drags and the spent cigarra was flicked off the roof.

The giant stared at the pair of red, artificial eyes in silence. The physical health consequences of the destructive habits he picked up to try and handle his grief was the very least of his worries. He certainly did not give a womprat’s shebs[1] about it at the time. He slowly lowered the blaster pistol in shame; with a deep sigh, his gaze dropped on the floor beneath his feet once again. His grasp of the blaster pistol began to relax as she quipped.

He couldn't do it. Not today. Certainly not in front of his old friend.

”You know, the weirdest thing happened the other day. I spotted grains in the refresher. Spice grains, to be exact. I was almost jealous that nobody invited me to the party in there.”

He looked up and glanced at her briefly at the mention of the spice, and shifted his gaze on the floor for the third time. He nodded slowly in silence. She knew, then. There was no point in hiding any of it, now. Rubbing his forehead and brow, he began to wonder if she had told the others, or simply kept that information to herself. The giant looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she sat down beside him on the ventilation duct while she spoke.

”I uh… I’d suggest using the particle mode. If something goes wrong and you survive. explaining it all would be super awkward. Then again, I was going to use a whistling bird to the temple. Not much that can go wrong there aside from a misfire… and I’d still look good for a funeral.”

“This one’s not a particle.” He said bitterly as his hands caressed the Duranium and Plastoid frame of the custom blaster pistol, immersed in thought. It hit him then, after a few moments passing in silence. He had set out to kill himself with a weapon his daughter had made for him as a gift. His eyes widened at the realization. Guilt and anger slowly began to replace his grief. How could he?

He had come quite close to pulling the trigger. His grief had failed to overpower his primal will to live. But it was a matter of time until it did. He lived on the brink of damnation.

If the old girl hadn’t found him in time…

”You got another one rolled?”

“Yeah.” he nodded slowly as he tucked the blaster under his warbelt, reaching for the small, palm sized metal case to his left afterwards. Opening it, he took two cigarras out of it. The metal case closed with a metallic clack afterwards. He passed one to the Wardog, and placed the other between his lips. He then reached for the match box and struck another match. Shielding its tip from the wind with his left hand, he lit up Shai’s smoke first, then lit his own. Putting out the match afterwards, he flicked it off the roof’s parapet as he took several puffs from his smoke.

He drew the cigarra from his mouth after several minutes passing in silence, holding it in his right hand between the index finger and middle finger. He was feeling a little better now. He had begun smoking to relax when he couldn’t do spice, but it never made him forget his grief.

He shifted his gaze towards Shai before he spoke. “What stopped you from doing it?” He asked, referring to what she had said she would use to do the deed and end it all. The giant would listen to her answer, mulling over it in silence. He would speak after several moments passing in silence, with the howling gentle winds breaking the silence. “Do the others know what you know,” the giant inquired as he gazed at the snowy landscape of Kestri. “Or have you kept this to yourself?” He hoped for the latter, but even if she hadn’t told the others, there was a good chance they had noticed something was certainly off with him. Despite the precautions he took to hide taking drugs and spice from them, Shai had found out. Whether a momentary slip-up or not, it wouldn’t be too long for the others to find out, one way or the other, he assumed.

​

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Shebs = Backside, rear, ass.

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai was quiet beside Kranak, accepting the cigarra with a smile. Though she beat him to the punch as a hand split open to ignite her plasma torch. With a smug chuckle she lit his smoke as well as her own before her hand morphed back to its original shape. After a few puffs she removed it from her lips and stared out over the landscape beyond the railing.

She didn't answer his rather loaded question immediately, though her gaze returned to him as he continued. "I know what I know." She answered calmly, letting the smoke of another pull roll from her nostrils. "I keep it to myself. If the others ask, I'll answer. If the others talk about it, I'll join in. But at this point I know somethin' ain't right but I'll keep it to myself." A hint of disappointment laced her voice, though she didn't dwell on the disappointment she felt at all. This was not the time for it.

"You." She finally answered his original question. "You, Vulcan, Gwyn, Eliz, Alora, Xyoz... not the Siks, not the Sixteens, kark all of those. Kark the Enclave and The Empire, kark the wars and all of that. What got me to lower my vambrace was the simple thought that I'd be leaving all of you behind. My mother, my friends, my kiddies, my family... I couldn't get myself to do if because I realized that I still have something to live for. I was close, though. After everything I've been through... I felt like there was nothing left. This was it..." She paused to take another pull at the cigarra. "And then it came to me. I still got something to live for."

She looked at him with a gentle smile. "I'm not saying we got the same shit going on, but I am sayin' that I know likely better than most what you're feelin' right now." Her gaze lowered from his bloodshot eyes and her smile faded as she finally saw his exposed left arm. She grabbed hold of his arm, rather firmly, and brought it up for a closer look. "Hot damn you got hit hard, huh?" She muttered. "I get it, though. For me, it's been alcohol, smokes and spice. Always has been. I'm better now, but you should have seen me before I joined the Mando'ade. I might have been a twig but even back then I could drink, smoke or snort anyone under the table." She admitted with a chuckle.

She leaned against his shoulder as she smoked with him. "Talk to me, Kran." She muttered, looking up at the giant. "I know how to keep my mouth shut. And I know what's going on in here." She tapped the side of his head as she smoked the cigarra. "Is it about Eliz and Gwyn?"

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Couldn't Sleep?​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Rooftop
Local Time: 03:27
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: End it
Secondary Objective: N/A
Wearing: Form-fitting Gray T-shirt, Flightsuit Pants, Kama, Combat Boots
Equipment: Dual Westar 35C Particle Blaster Pistols, The Thundering Wasp
Tags: Shai Maji

Prideful Suffering​

Just as he was about to strike up the match, the Wardog had beaten him to the punch. Her right cybernetic hand had split open, revealing a plasma torch. Sparkling to life with a gentle hiss, the old girl lit his cigarra with a smug chuckle, and her own smoke afterwards. <Cybernetic enhancements do have their pros, it seems.> He thought as he heartily chuckled, putting away the match back into the matchbox while he puffed at his cigarra a few times. The giant would listen to her answers to his questions in quietude, occasionally taking a few drags of his cigarra, turning his head to the side to blow the smoke away from the Wardog’s face.

”I know what I know.” She answered calmly, letting the smoke of another pull roll from her nostrils. ”I keep it to myself. If the others ask, I’ll answer. If the others talk about it, I’ll join in. But at this point I know somethin’ ain't right but I’ll keep it to myself.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, stroking his chin. His two-week beard bit the palm of his hand as he contemplated her response. The answer, and the faint trill of disappointment in her voice stung him. They all knew, then; whether the old girl had told them anything or not. He failed them too, then. His brows furrowed in anger as he turned his head away from the Wardog; an attempt to hide his shame. He was angered by his incapability to remain strong for them. He failed his daughter as a father, he failed Eliz as a mentor and drill instructor, and now failed Shai, Alora, Sasha, Thonn and Aves -his second family- as a leader.

How was he going to look them in the eye, moving on? The giant began to question his ability to lead and remain strong in mind as Shai began answering his initial question. He turned his head slowly to meet her red glowing cybernetic eyes with his own, albeit somewhat hesitant.

”You.” She finally answered his original question. ”You, Vulcan, Gwyn, Eliz, Alora, Xyoz… not the Siks, not the Sixteens, kark all of those. Kark the Enclave and The Empire, kark the wars and all of that. What got me to lower my vambrace was the simple thought that I’d be leaving all of you behind. My mother, my friends, my kiddies, my family… I couldn’t get myself to do it because I realized that I still have something to live for. I was close, though. After everything I’ve been through… I felt like there was nothing left. This was it…” She paused to take another pull at the cigarra. “And then it came to me. I still got something to live for.”

Taking a long drag, the giant looked away, mulling over what he had to lose if he were to pull the trigger. He didn’t feel he had anything else left that truly kept him in this galaxy anymore. Everything, save for the Wardog and his promise to her, had lost its meaning to him. Even then, the gravity of his promise was becoming less and less sufficient to keep him going, after everything he failed at. He didn’t know how to make up for his failures, did not know where to begin, or could he even begin to make up for them?

Her voice pulled him from mulling over further as she continued to speak. The giant turned his gaze towards her, his eyes meeting with her gentle smile as she continued.

”I’m not saying we got the same shit going on, but I am sayin’ that I know likely better than most what you’re feelin’ right now.”

He nodded, acknowledging her as the old girl’s gaze lowered from his eyes and onto his left arm; her smile began to fade away as her gaze met the injection marks all over his left bicep and wrist, intermingling with scars he had earned in previous battles over the years in his lifetime. Noticing what she was looking at too late, he couldn’t pull back his arm in time to hide the marks. She grabbed a hold of his left arm and brought it closer to her, inspecting injection marks more closely.

”Hot damn you got hit hard, huh?”

Very much against his usual stoic nature, he pulled back his arm somewhat bad-temperedly after she got a good look at it and gazed away from her with a slight frown spreading on his scarred face as he finished his smoke with one last deep drag, and flicked the cigarra bud off the parapet before him. He reached for two more rolled up cigarras from the metal case beside him as she continued to speak to him.

”I get it, though. For me, it’s been alcohol, smokes and spice. Always has been. I’m better now, but you should have seen me before I joined the Mando'ade. I might have been a twig but even back then I could drink, smoke or snort anyone under the table.” She admitted with a chuckle.

Remembering how he got absolutely chit-faced the night shortly after the operation on Barbatos, he joined the old girl with a hearty chuckle of his own as he struck up another match and lit his cigarra after tucking the other one behind his right ear in case the Wardog wanted another one to smoke. He had collapsed into a drunken slumber on his third dozen large pints of ne’tra gal[1], while the Wardog continued on. He hadn’t been properly drunk before in his life until that night. She could damn well drink anyone under the table, that was for sure.

He shook his head as he continued to giggle heartily, remembering that night, as Shai leaned against his right shoulder. She and Alora, no matter how dark and dire the circumstance was, they managed to make him laugh, or at least crack a smile. He had no idea how they managed to do it, but they did. They always found one way or the other to light up the mood, despite all the chit going down around them.

”Talk to me, Kran.” She muttered, looking up at the giant. ”I know how to keep my mouth shut. And I know what’s going on in here.” She tapped the side of his head as she smoked the cigarra. ”Is it about Eliz and Gwyn?”

His chest rose and fell as he heaved a deep sigh. The mention of the kids cut him to the bone. His left hand over his mouth, he stroked his chin as he leaned forward, slowly rocking back and forth as he flicked off the creeping ash of his cigarra onto the snow covered ground beneath his feet. Darkness dimmed out the light in his eyes. Lost in thought, there would be a long moment of silence before he would speak again.

His failure was his own to shoulder and withstand. It was only fair it be so, for he was the one that failed the kids, failed his squad, and failed himself. As much as his mental state demanded strongly otherwise, he had to do this alone, he thought. He would either rise under the weight of remorse alone, or crumble to pieces.

All alone.

“I’m-” he paused, taking a moment to swallow the lump building up in his throat. “I’m okay. I just… I just need time, is all.” He said, sounding hoarse with his hand covering his mouth. His mind drifted towards what the old girl was going through with their loss, now. From the outside, she seemed to be managing their loss far better than he was. Maybe the truth was far from that. He remembered their arguing, and her breakdown a few hours before they had gone out to get drunk and get chit-faced together, with Alora. That was all months before the kids were taken from them. As much as he was a father to Gwyn, Shai was a mother to her, as well. The old girl was her clan Alor of his foundling after all. She was one of her kiddies.

“What about you?” His eyes drifting towards the frozen landscape stretching as far as the eye could see, he asked in return in an attempt to keep his pain to himself, and maybe try to help her if she was struggling with things. A part of him knew it wouldn’t work, but it was hard to swallow his damn pride and ask for help, or just open up to his old friend. The Wardog knew him too well.

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Net’ra gal = black ale - sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout.

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai let go of his arm as he yanked it away from her, though she could see that he was at least listening to her. She plucked the cigarra from his ear and lit it with her plasma torch as he finally spoke up again. As expected, he wasn't exactly inclined to talk about what was troubling, trying rather to turn the attention on her. She smirked at the question. "You need a lot more than time, brother, that much is obvious." She teased.

"Tell you what..." She paused for a deep drag of the cigarra before she glanced back to him. "Tit for tat. We mention what's bothering us, me and then you, and then we discuss it. One for you, one for me. Because, at the end of the day, we ain't leaving this roof until you've voiced some stuff." While her smile was light-hearted, her tone indicated that she wasn't joking. "Gotta admit, though. The beard looks good on ya." She chuckled as she scratched his chin to annoy him.

With a sigh and some puffs, she scrounged up her thoughts. "Alright... first on the list, my boyfriend wants to turn me into a vampire to give me my body and old life back, at least to a degree... and I stopped feeling sad about people dyin' which is bothering me more about people actually dyin' especially under my command. So I'm kind of in a moral situation at the moment." She glanced off with a smile of sheer pain as she smoked further. "Alright, your turn. What's eating you up?" She asked as she got up, pacing around a bit to get the cold out of what remained of her body.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Couldn't Sleep?​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Rooftop
Local Time: 03:31
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: End it
Secondary Objective: N/A
Wearing: Form-fitting Gray T-shirt, Flightsuit Pants, Kama, Combat Boots
Equipment: Dual Westar 35C Particle Blaster Pistols, The Thundering Wasp
Tags: Shai Maji

​

She smirked at the question. ”You need a lot more than time, brother, that much is obvious. She teased.

”Tell you what…” She paused for a deep drag of the cigarra before she glanced back to him. ”Tit for tat. We mention what’s bothering us, me and then you, and then we discuss it. One for you, one for me. Because, at the end of the day, we ain’t leaving this roof until you’ve voiced some stuff.” While her smile was light-hearted, her tone indicated that she wasn’t joking.​

Closing his eyes with a deep suspiration, he massaged his brow with the cigarra in his hand. He knew she would stay true to her word. She wouldn’t let him take one step towards that door without talking to her; that much was certain. Although it meant he would have to swallow his pride to voice the suffering that tormented him, the giant knew the Wardog was acting out of concern for him. He had done the same for her when she needed it. She too, was very much prideful and stubborn as he was. They were alike for that matter. Despite knowing her for so long, she hadn’t opened up to him of her own anguish, until things had gotten to the boiling point after Barbatos.

”Gotta admit, though. The beard looks good on ya.”She chuckled as she scratched his chin.

A faint grin emerged from his lips as her hand scratched his beard. Putting the cigarra between his lips, the giant took a deep drag, and puffed out the smoke as he opened his bloodshot eyes. His faint smile would be erased soon after, leaving its place to a neutral expression. Turning his gaze at the Wardog, he agreed to her proposition with a nod. He would not have agreed to it so easily if it was someone else. Not only had they shared victories and hardships together over the years, they also had each other’s backs. Naturally, it would make it easier to open up to her, than anyone else.

Taking a few drags from his cigarra, the Alor’ad[1] hearkened to her as she spoke her mind about the events that troubled her.

With a sigh and some puffs, she scrounged up her thoughts. ”Alright… first on the list, my boyfriend wants to turn me into a vampire to give me my body and old life back, at least to a degree… and I stopped feeling sad about people dyin’ which is bothering me more about people actually dyin’ especially under my command. So I’m kind of in a moral situation at the moment.” She glanced off with a smile of sheer pain as she smoked further. ”Alright, your turn. What’s eating you up?” She asked as she got up, pacing around a bit.

His gaze gradually lowering to the floor, he spent a few moments in silent contemplation, processing her torment she revealed to him. Unaware of the serious drawbacks of becoming a vampire at the time, unlike her, he wasn’t sure how that tormented her thoughts. Having her body, and a piece of her old life she had lost, returned to her… Wasn’t that supposed to be a good thing? But he knew everything came at a price. Maybe that was what she was struggling with, weighing the drawbacks that came with the benefits of such a perk.

Though he perfectly understood the latter; what it was like to stop feeling sorry for the fallen.

“I feel you,” he finally said, heaving a sigh. “I still think about the ones I’ve lost under my command, or under my watch, back in the day,” he said, his mind drifting to the bloody excursions he had participated as a junior Ruus’alor[2] against the Graug on Mandalore. Battles, skirmishes waged long ago on the barren, cursed planet flashed before his eyes. The bitter, acrid mixture of fire, blood, ash and ozone filled his nostrils. Orders that had long lost their meaning by now; shouts, pained shrieks and screams, and copious amounts of profanities, intermingling with the deafening amounts of small arms fire, drowned out the howl of the cold breeze that slowly freezed the giant. “Braz,” he mumbled; the name was almost swept away by the gentle wind. “Chet, Cabur, Jester, Atin, Blades, Tower, Akaan, Prudii…” He nodded as he puffed at his cigarra. Anger slowly began to take a hold of his expression. They were but a handful of names, among dozens he had lost. “You never forget your first one. The one, that died under your command. And it will haunt you. You will find yourself asking the question;"if I had went about this differently, would he still be alive today?" until your very last breath." On a few occasions, he had to lead his brothers and sisters under his command to their deaths, knowingly, bound by the orders he was to adhere to. Disobeying them would have condemned him and those under his command to eternal damnation if he hadn’t. That was a fate worse than death, even if the aftermath of fulfilling orders at the cost of the lives of good men and women felt far worse. “Obey the order, no matter what. Do what needs to be done, even if that would see good vode begin their final march; to the Oversoul.” His brows furrowed as he fell silent for a moment, taking another drag from his cigarra before he continued. “It’s our minds’ way of preserving our sanity, dulling the significance of those that are gone; an attempt to shut out the agony… To make it easier for us, those who are left behind, to handle the pain. Or not even feel a thing at all, as you begin to grow desensitized to the fallen with every new death; with every letter you write to their clans, their houses, to let them know they've lost another,” He said, his voice trilled with genuine sorrow. He hated the fact that he became used to it, long ago.

“But that’s not always the case now, is it?” The giant raised a rhetorical question, as he looked up at the Wardog; starting to tear up. He lowered his gaze yet again, shaking his head slowly side to side as he brought the cigarra to his lips, puffing out smoke after taking a few drags in quiet contemplation for a few minutes.

“It dawned on me, a few days back.” The giant admitted in a bitter tone. “He first lost his arm because of me, and then his life,” He kept his head hung down in shame. “His training was complete, two months before Barbatos,” He continued. It cut him to the bone to admit it all to his old friend; to tell her of his failure. “And almost a year later, he dies in his first, actual deployment!” He cried out in anger as he stood up to his feet in sudden fury. “I trained them,” he said, pointing at himself with his thumb as he looked at the red, cybernetic eyes of the Wardog; pain, shame, and anger, all visible in his expression as he spoke. “I taught them everything. Everything I was taught! Everything that kept me alive! I didn’t spend a single sober, conscious moment not analyzing what I taught them, to find what had gotten them both killed! But I can’t find out! No matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I go over everything I taught them, the methods I used in their training, I can’t!” His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried to restrain his anger, despite the rage within him. He was mad at himself, as the giant blamed nobody but himself for their deaths. Unable to make his peace with reality, he was so convinced that he was the one that had them killed. He turned his back at the Wardog as he tried to calm down, and hide the tear flowing down his cheek. The Alor’ad heaved a sigh as he rubbed his face. He took a deep drag and finished his cigarra to help rein his anger further.

Having calmed down some in moments passing in quietness, he sat on the ventilation unit again before he continued to speak."I didn't deserve them," With a somber voice, the giant confessed with a heavy heart as he flicked the spent cigarra off the parapet. "Manda knows I didn't. And so the Manda takes them from me as punishment," This was the only answer he could come up with. Nothing else made sense to the man. "I want to see them again! I want to hear their cheerful voices once more," The giant cried out in futile protest to their deaths as he shifted his gaze back at the Wardog. “But I can’t. The only way I can, is if I join them.” That was his reason to put a blaster against his head, to try and end it.

“But I can’t do that, too.” He buried his face in his hands as he hissed between his gritting teeth; the anger from the inability to do anything to compensate for his failure devoured his soul. “What, then,” he would ask his old friend, seeking her wisdom and clarity. “What must I do? How am I going to make up for this?”

​

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Alor’ad = Captain.
[2] Ruus’alor = Sergeant.

​

​

 

[Shai Maji]

Shai sat quietly next to him and listened to his every word, mulling them over in quiet contemplation. The more he spoke, the more his emotions boiled and the floodgates spilled out all of that frustration and pain. And despite trying to shift her thoughts, despite all of the things she wanted to tell him, one thought kept coming back to her and stuck.

Now he knew.

Now he understood her pain, her grief and bloodthirsty anger, the driving force behind what she was now. Now that talk in the barracks made a lot more sense to him, even if he never thought about it consciously.

Shai sat with a hand beneath her chin as empty eyes stared off into the distance. Her thoughts became vocal as one simple line slipped past her lips.

”Welcome to the Mando’ade...” She muttered, her voice cracking slightly as the words became barely more than a whisper. The same words she loved to say to people who questioned her methods in the past... was also a grim reminder of the risks they lived with as Mandalorians.

She realised what she said and looked to him with a darkened face. Wordlessly she got up and pulled him into a tight hug, holding him for a long time. ”You did nothing wrong, Kran. You were a great father to them both, you trained them good, and you tried you hardest to keep them safe. In the end... it was just how things happened. You did nothing wrong. And I’ll keep sayin’ it ‘til you believe it.” She spoke with a gentle voice as her hug tightened. ”You did nothing wrong.” She muttered again.

She finally let go and sat down again, plucking his spare cigarra free to light and breathe in. With a shaky breath the smoke bellowed from her lips as she massaged her brow. ”I did the same as you. With every Mandalorian I lost, I went back and checked what I did wrong. And with Eliz... neither of us did nothing wrong. He was under my command that day... but he had his own objective. I still feel like I slipped up somewhere despite not finding anything. But what I can say is that you are not to blame, Kran. Not with Eliz, and not with Gwyn. You looked out for them, you gave them love, and you helped Gwyn out of a deep and dark hole.” She looked at him as she took another long drag at her cigarra.

”And as much as it hurts, Kran... I can tell you from experience, what’s done is done. The loss of your kiddies is a pain that nobody should bear. Throughout all of the pain and suffering I’ve lived through... none of it comes close to seeing those little bodies burnt and dumped into a shallow grave. I know that helpless rage, Kran. And I don’t know what to say that can make all of this pain go away. I don’t know what to do that can make all of this right again.” She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to her as she held the cigarra safely away from him.

She sighed again as she thought for a moment. ”I’m sorry, Kran. I truly am. I don’t know how I can make this right for you. But I will say again... it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. As much as we like to think it, we ain’t invincible.” She looked at him as she gave a sniff. ”I miss them too. The laughter, the shouting, the good and bad. I miss them too.” It was painful to see him like this. To know that he had to live with this kind of pain for the rest of his life. She never wished that kind of pain upon anyone. Nobody deserved that kind of suffering. And now she had to look into her friend’s eyes knowing the pain he was feeling.

She set the cigarra aside and wrapped her other arm around him again, pulling him into a hug once more.

Kranak Vizsla

 

[Kranak Vizsla]

Couldn't Sleep?​

Location: Kestri, The Kom’rk, Rooftop
Local Time: 03:51
Date: -DATA CORRUPTED-
Primary Objective: End it
Secondary Objective: N/A
Wearing: Form-fitting Gray T-shirt, Flightsuit Pants, Kama, Combat Boots
Equipment: Dual Westar 35C Particle Blaster Pistols, The Thundering Wasp
Tags: Shai Maji

Eternal Night​

”Welcome to the Mando’ade…” She muttered, her voice crackling slightly as the words became barely more than a whisper.

The suffering giant lifted his head as the Wardog’s lips parted to speak. Almost swept into the night by the howling wind, he scarcely made out the words she somewhat absent-mindedly muttered to him. He understood what she meant, nevertheless. He already knew what it was like to be a Mandalorian. Enduring the passing of one’s subordinates and brothers-in-arms was one thing, but the passing of one’s family, those one regarded the closest to their heart, was another; nothing, no amount of training or experience truly prepared you for the grief to come upon losing those you held dearest to your heart; for the heart-wrenching reality that they were no more.

It was the life of a Mandalorian; those who had a close brush with Death itself on a regular basis.

He did understand the Wardog fully, now. He had understood her pain at the beginning, but had failed to comprehend the sheer magnitude of it, until now. After all, one had to experience the other’s pain themselves to fathom it completely.

Coming back to his senses as he was pulled up to his feet for a tight embrace, the Wardog would prevent the giant from drifting off further in his mind with her words. After a moment, the giant would respond with an embrace of his own as he leaned forward, burying his scar ridden face onto her shoulder.

Wordlessly she got up and pulled him into a hug, holding him for a long time.”You did nothing wrong, Kran. You were a great father to them both, you trained them good, and you tried your hardest to keep them safe. In the end… it was just how things happened. You did nothing wrong. And I’ll keep sayin’ it ‘til you believe it.” She spoke with a gentle voice as her hug tightened. ”You did nothing wrong.” She muttered again.

The fight against the rising lump in his throat became more and more difficult with each word she softly spoke to him; his clenched chin quivered softly, as a frown emerged in his feature. His eyes closed shut as the giant’s broad chest slowly rose and fell with each deep, shaky breath he drew at an attempt to hold back the glistening, unshed tears in his bloodshot brown eyes; his mind a whirlwind of emotions as the Wardog’s reason battled the giant’s despair.

He could not make it make sense to him. What, then? If he was not the one to blame for their deaths, then what was the cause of their passing? If all the skills he had taught them under his tutelage, all of the experiences he had passed onto them, which he had painstakingly accumulated in the span of hundreds of firefights, skirmishes and battles over two decades, was sufficient to keep them alive, then what was it that killed them? If it wasn’t his training and experience that kept him alive and fighting all these years, then what was it? Was it luck? Was he just lucky to be alive and they weren’t!? No! It couldn’t be! But what was it, then?

It would be a question that perhaps would forever remain unanswered.

As much as he tried to fight them back, tears began to slowly dribble down the deep and shallow scars on his feature as they both sat down once again. Turning his head away from the Wardog at a futile attempt to hide the brightly glistening tears slowly running down his cheeks, the giant wiped them away with the back of his hand as she plucked the last remaining spare cigarra from his cigarra case. Lighting it up and taking a puff at it, its smoke bellowed from her lips following after a shaky exhale as she massaged her brow.

”I did the same as you. With every Mandalorian I lost, I went back and checked what I did wrong. And with Eliz… neither of us did nothing wrong. He was under my command that day… but he had his own objective. I still feel like I slipped up somewhere despite not finding anything. But what I can say is that you are not to blame, Kran. Not with Eliz, and not with Gwyn. You looked out for them, you gave them love, and you helped Gwyn out of a deep and dark hole.” She looked at him as she took another long drag at her cigarra.

”And as much as it hurts, Kran… I can tell you from experience, what’s done is done. The loss of your kiddies is a pain that nobody should bear. Throughout all of the pain and suffering I’ve lived through… none of it comes close to seeing those little bodies burnt and dumped into a shallow grave. I know that helpless rage, Kran. And I don’t know what to say that can make all of this pain go away. I don’t know what to do that can make all of this right again.” She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to her as she held the cigarra safely away from him.

She sighed again as she thought for a moment. ”I’m sorry, Kran. I truly am. I don’t know how I can make this right for you. But I will say again… it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. As much as we like to think it, we ain’t invincible.” She looked at him as she gave a sniff. ”I miss them too. The laughter, the shouting, the good and the bad. I miss them too.” She set the cigarra aside and wrapped her other arm around him again, pulling him into a hug once more.​

Slowly, the giant shook his head as the unbearable anguish surged over him like a bitterly cold, relentless torrent. As he was pulled into her embrace, he trembled with each whisper quiet sob as he wept silently at first. His head in his hands, it wasn’t long before his silent weeping left its place to heart-wrenching whimpers, as he could not hold back the pent up anguish, the frustration gnawing at his soul, and the helpless rage within him any longer. Grimacing as he sobbed louder and louder, he felt the eviscerating sting of a thousand daggers stabbing into his heart; he had endured injury and pain enough to last an aruetii[1] ten lifetimes in torture at the hands of the Dar’manda[2] and battle against the numerous enemies of his people, but nothing compared to this; the unimaginably tormentful grief of a father losing his children.

“We… we couldn’t,” he finally could say in between his uncontrollable sobbing. “We couldn’t even bury them!” He cried out as the giant shook with each harrowing sob. “We don’t even know if their souls are at rest!” The thought of their souls remaining restless damned him even further. The mere thought of the possibility their bodies were cast aside and left to rot eviscerated him deeper as an invisible, devastating punch to his guts left him doubled up.

“I… I don’t… I don’t want to live the life they were robbed of!” Shaking his head, the giant bawled as he tugged at his hair, knowing what he wanted would not come to passing for a long time. Never before in his life had he craved to reach the Oversoul, and the death he was owed. Although the sun of the icy planet leadenly began to creep over the peak of the snow covered fang-like mountains in the distance, it failed to purge the eternal night that was cast over his soul. Shrouded in complete darkness, it drowned out the life out of him. He was robbed of his sun, forsaken to suffer under the night sky until the end of his days, bearing the pain and reality of the fact he would not see them again, until he was granted the release of death.

“I want them back!” groaning in pain, he sniffled as he hugged the Wardog tightly in return; painful desperation laced in his voice. “I want them back!” the giant whimpered as he cried his heart out, embracing her tighter.

​

Spoiler: Translations

[1] Aruetii = Foreigner, outsider.
[2] Dar’manda = The damned. The ones that lost their heritage. Traitors.