Private Mine By Right

[Adenn Munin]

M A R A U D E R
CLAN MUNIN
ZANBAR

Ever was Adenn active, no rest for his ambitions he always sought for through the trials of blood and combat. He carried large expectations on his shoulders, or at least he perceived so from his father. One day he would inherit his father's mantle and carry the responsibility of leading their people in the large Galaxy of theirs. He was young, but hardships made a boy out of a man. His culture had suffered terribly by the hands of the Sith, Mandalore left in desolation with the earth scorched and the crust riddled with holes to extract the sacred ore from Mandalore's veins. It would be long before his people entered a renaissance with proud warriors doing good on the honor of their ancestors. Though that age was something to work for, to fight for; it would not be given so easily to them.

The new ways of their people had failed them, it was what divided them and brought ruin to their beloved planet.

Only the old ways would salvage what was left and bring them anew with strength on par as beskar. Pillage and take whatever was theirs by the right of conquest, or act as glorified paid soldiers to do one's bidding. Anything to survive.

And so, a village on Zanbar was ripe for Adenn and his warriors to raid and plunder everything to bring back to their clan. This planet had Mandalorian influence as there were many abandoned outposts with Mandalorian design to them. It was possible this village was a clan of Mandalorians, though it hardly mattered to Adenn. His only loyalties were to his clan, the Sons of Mandalore, and the Death Watch. It was outside of their knowledge if these people had any affiliations to them. Was it regressive his approach to these people? One would argue so, but to him it was to cull out other sects and tribes that didn't offer much to advance their people from their state of decline. Cull out these groups and there would be only one ideology of Mandalorians that didn't divert in other lines of thinking. To Adenn, the diversity of beliefs held down his people from their glory.

<"Is everyone ready, Galaar?"> the young warrior asked to his lieutenant, one whom he had fought alongside with on countless raids.

<"Waiting on your signal.">

<"Good.">

That was all he needed to hear. This would be a swift strike, catching their prey by surprise at this time of night. Without another minute passing he gave out the signal to his warriors, all flying in their air with their jetpacks. Sentries and patrols spotted Adenn and his war band, alerting everyone in the settlement of the peril that came. Even so, it would do nothing to impede the assault.

Ven Munin​

 

[Ven Munin]

The night had been how every other night was on Zanbar. The sky had long since turned from blue, to purple, to black. Twinkling lights pocketed the midnight blanket, set by three large orbs that radiated rippling white light across the planet. Far below the plateaus the marshes and swamps radiated a steady, wet heat. It was sweltering, even in the relatively cool night air. Yet, up in the safety of the mountains, in the harsh wind that whipped across the arid plains, a race of people survived.

Not just survived, but lived.

Tonight happened to be a night of celebration. A roaring bonfire had been set alight in the centre of a camp populated by smatterings of hand-crafted tents. The people who inhabited them had come out in droves, and though their numbers were small, they made up for it in joy and laughter. Dancing, music, food, and drink all flowed freely until the late hours. Most did not return to their tents until the sun had begun to tint the horizon a deep shade of blue. Ven included.

She had just slipped between her sheets, finally free to relax and allow the comfort of sleep to take hold. Tomorrow was another day. Despite the celebrations, they had a lot to do before the cold snap hit. With her eyelids growing heavier by the minute, Ven submitted to the darkness behind them and settled back into her pillows to get some well-deserved rest.

“RAID!” The sentry’s cry came, loud and clear.

Ven snapped her eyes open. It had rattled her eardrums after sitting for so long in silence, and the stampede of feet that followed rumbled the floor beneath the bed. She sat up, bleary-eyed for a moment and with a dumbfounded look on her expression. Drills were, like their day to day lives, a silent affair. So, if the sentry had shouted…

Ven threw herself out of bed to join the throng, throwing the flap of her tent open with the back of her wrist whilst shoving her helmet firmly onto her head.

Instead of the peaceful fireside gathering she expected to find, she emerged into nothing short of chaos. Men and women she did recognise falling from the skies. Attacking the camp with bullets and fire. They were silent fighters, but Ven did not need sound to know the panic and fear that was spreading through her people with every gunshot that fired. When the reassuring clicks of her helmet echoed loudly, Ven scanned the crowds for her family. Her mother, her brother, her father. Anyone, but there was nobody. Nothing but chaos. There was little else left to do save for help the nearest person, so that was what she did.

Diving forward, she threw her wrist up to shove hard at an in descript Mandalorian heading straight toward one of the tents. They collided together, armour smashing against armour with a deafening ring. The assailant was thrown off course, but only for a stumbled step or two before they snapped their attention onto Ven. They were no longer interested in the content of the tent, they were interested in her.

Adenn Munin​

 

[Adenn Munin]

M A R A U D E R
CLAN MUNIN
ZANBAR

His armor already painted in blood from the fallen he slain, hungry for more as death and fire plagued the village. He walked towards one of the tents only to be diverted when another individual collided into him. A woman that did not belong in his ranks, belonging to those he preyed on. His attention focused on her, distracted from his original plan.

<"Brave or foolish of you to throw yourself at me,"> his beskad at his hand as he walked intently at her.

<"Let's see if you have any promise or if you're pathetic as the rest if your ilk."

<"That is if there will be any survivors at dawn.">

Charging at her, swinging his beskad at the woman. A simple swing, one that any trained warrior could evade or deflect with ease.

Ven Munin​